Daughter of Betrayal
by Yarah
Summary: The story of Tristan and Isolde's daughter. OCxOC.
1. Fateful Meeting

**A/N- **Hi everyone! Okay, I know you might be thinking, "This story looks familiar…" Well, that's because it is. I started this a few years ago when I had more time on my hands, but I've since become very busy and pretty much dropped writing totally. But I'm now an English/creative writing major, and before I get into my intense fiction writing classes I'd like to get back into the swing of writing a little each day, any kind of writing really. So I thought, what better way to do that than to go pick up some of my old fanfiction stories that I never finished. So here I am. I have no idea what my password for my original account was, so I just created a new one. So I didn't steal Neseve Sedai's story. I simply am Neseve Sedai under a new pen name. Anyways, I'll get on with the story now. I have reposted my 10 original chapters here (with some editing), and I hope to have a few new chapters up A.S.A.P. Thank you for reading!

Fateful Meeting

Fallon pulled the hood of her cloak up, hiding her dark hair and fair face. It provided little protection from the drenching rain and powerful gusts of wind. She had been riding for two days straight looking for this place, and now she had found it.

It wasn't until five days ago that she had found out that the people that she was living with, the people she had always thought were her parents, were not. She recalled their conversation vividly.

_When Fallon came home from a full day of riding, her mother, Erin, and her father, Willem, met her at the door. She greeted them with a happy smile. It was her sixteenth birthday, and she was hoping there would be some kind of special celebration. But her parents did not return her smile. They stared at her solemnly._

_"Fallon, we must speak with you," her father said._

_Fallon knew that this wasn't going to be about her birthday. Both of her parents were too sad and somber. "What is it?" she asked warily, "Did I do something wrong."_

_Her mother's sober expression softened a little as she gave her a comforting smile. "No, dear," she soothed, "Nothing like that. We just need to speak with you about something. That's all."_

_Fallon eyed them both suspiciously for another moment then nodded and followed them into the house. Her father led her to their small kitchen table and pulled out a chair. "I think you had better sit down, lass," was all he said._

_She took the seat, and her parents each took a seat across from her. After what seemed like an eternity of them gazing at her with sad eyes, her mother spoke as she reached across the table and took Fallon's small hand in her own. "Please, Fallon," she said softly, "Know that we both love you and always will. You do know that, don't you?"_

_Fallon drew her dark brows together in puzzlement. "Of course, Mother. Why would you ask such a thing?"_

_Her mother sighed. "I just wanted to make sure you knew that before we told you."_

_"Told me what?" Fallon was becoming quite nervous and frightened. She hardly ever saw her parents act this way. "What's happened?"_

_This time her father spoke. "Fallon, you're sixteen now, a woman. There is something that we have kept hidden from you for fear of how you would react. But we have both decided that since you are a young woman now, you deserve the truth."  
"What?" she exclaimed, "What is it? You must tell me!" She was frustrated, wondering what her father could be talking about. Why wouldn't he just say it?_

_"Fallon, we are not your parents."_

_She looked from him to her mother, waiting for one of them to crack a smile and say that it was all a big prank… but their faces remained solemn. Suddenly, Fallon was light headed, and she was very glad of the chair. If she had been standing she might have fallen to the floor. "What?" she whispered disbelievingly._

_Her mother, or rather the woman she had always thought was her mother, continued to rub her now shaking hand comfortingly. "Almost sixteen years ago, your real mother brought you to us, pleading for us to take care of you because she couldn't. Willem and I had been trying to conceive for years without success, we agreed to take you in. We did so want a child. Your mother was weak from giving birth to you. Weak and sick. She stayed with us for two days before she died. It was then that she gave you your name and told us a little of her story."_

_Fallon blinked back tears. She drew a shuddering breath and tried to control her emotions. "Who was she?" she asked after a moment, "Who was my father?" Willem and Erin exchanged a look that Fallon did not miss. This was something that they weren't sure how to tell her. "Who?" she repeated. _

_Willem drew a deep breath and said quietly, "Your mother was Princess Isolde of Ireland. Your father was Tristan of Aerygone."_

_Fallon's eyes widened in disbelief. She blinked. What? Every subject of Cornwall knew the story of Tristan of Aerygone, the adopted son of their aging king, Lord Marke, and Isolde, Lord Marke's former wife. Tristan was slain when Donnchadh, the king of Ireland and Isolde's father, attacked the Castle Dor, and Isolde was said to have disappeared. They couldn't be her parents. It couldn't be true. "How?" was all she could get out._

_"It's true," Erin said, nodding, "She told us that she had been living alone and delivered you by herself. She wanted desperately to know that you would be safe. Even though she did not get to be with you long, she loved you so much."_

_The shock was slowly draining out of Fallon, leaving only numbness. She didn't know what to think. Didn't know how to react. "If my mother was Princess Isolde," she said as she stared blankly at the grainy wood of the table. She still stunned that her mother could have been a princess. She certainly did not feel like a princess. "How do you know that Lord Marke is not my father." She didn't understand how they could reason that Tristan was her father. It was definitely a possibility- if Isolde truly was her mother- but they couldn't be sure._

_Erin gave a small shrug. "Your mother was sure," she said, "She was positive. She said you looked like him. I never saw him, but she was certain."_

_Fallon couldn't hold her emotions in any longer. She dropped her head to her hands and began to cry. It was just so hard to process everything. Not only did she learn that the couple who brought her up were not her real parents, but also that her real parents were nobles. She also cried for never having known them. She loved Erin and Willem with all her heart. The fact that they were not her blood family did not change the way she felt about them at all. But now that she knew that her real mother and father were different people, she longed to know what they were like. Would they have loved her as Willem and Erin did? How would life with them have been? She would never know. _

_Willem grasped her hand in his, and Erin was beside her rubbing her back soothingly. "There, there, child," she murmured, "It will be alright. You'll see."_

_Fallon cried for a while. Finally, she wiped her cheeks and sniffed back her sobs. She turned her face up to Erin. Although they had never met her father, Willem and Erin might be able to tell her something of her mother. "What was she like?"_

_Erin smiled sadly. "Brave and beautiful. Just like you. She was heartsick from the death of your father, but she stayed strong until your birth, wanting to give you the chance of life. You would have loved her."_

_"Do I look like her?" she asked with a sniff._

_Willem nodded. "You have her green eyes and her fair skin. She told us you got your hair from your father and a lot of your facial features. But I can see quite a bit of her in you too."_

_"What else can you tell me about her?"_

_"Well…."_

They had spent the rest of that day talking about Fallon's parents and her heritage. For the next two days, she contemplated what to do. In the end she decided to journey to the center of Cornwall, to Castle Dor, where her parents had lived, and where, she assumed, she was conceived. She reasoned that maybe if she went there she would be able to find out more about them. The third day after the secret of her past was revealed to her, she packed.

Now, here she was, cold and drenched from the rain. She sat, kneeling before two intertwining willows. This was where she had been told her father was buried. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks as she imagined what he must have been like.

She kneeled there for what seemed like hours, thinking, until she heard the sound of approaching hoof beats. Fallon dismissed it for a passer-by and did not move, but soon the hoof beats became louder, and she knew that whoever was riding the horse was not simply passing by. In seconds she would no longer be alone. She stiffened her back and sat up straighter but did not turn as the rider came up behind her. The hoof beats stopped.

"Show yourself," said a deep male voice, "Don't try to pull any weapons. I'll have you know that I am rather good with a sword. I don't want to have to kill you today."

Fallon eased her fingertips away from the hilt of her knife that she kept at her belt. As she slowly turned to face the stranger, she pushed down the hood of her cloak revealing her face and glossy black ringlets. "I didn't know that it was an offense to simply sit on a river bank, good sir," she said, her melodious voice tinged with annoyance, "I didn't think it would warrant my death."

The handsome man's dark blue eyes widened. He was obviously surprised to find that he had been threatening a young woman. His sandy blonde curls, wet from the rain, clung to his sun-tanned forehead at an angle. His face was stern, made up of hard planes and angles, but still attractive. He looked to be a few years older than her, maybe 20.

"It is no offense, girl," he said a little harshly, regaining his composure, "Forgive me if hooded and cloaked strangers lurking about in the shadows raise my suspicions. Especially on days like this." He looked up at the gloomy sky and shuddered. "It is a day for ill omens."

"Forgive _me_," Fallon retorted, "If I am not given to silly superstitions. I had my hood up to keep the rain off my face. Much good that did me."

The man appeared to be offended by her calling his superstitions silly. "Pray, what is your name, wench?" he demanded.

Fallon's face reddened all the way to her ears. "I am no wench!" she exclaimed angrily, "You are a filthy pig and would do well to leave me be!"

The man's face also reddened. But then he recovered from his embarrassment and thrust his strong chin up arrogantly. He announced, "_You _would do well not to call me a filthy pig. I am Salomon, cousin of Lord Marke and next in line for the throne of Cornwall. You will regard me with respect."


	2. To Castle Dor

To Castle Dor

Salomon turned his head and glared at the irritating young woman riding on her horse beside him. She had been very surprised at the knowledge of who he was, but she still treated him as an equal and it grated on his nerves. He had no idea what had compelled him to offer to take her back to Castle Dor to rest from her travels. It would have been better and a lot more peaceful to have just left her where she was. But he knew he couldn't just leave a defenseless young woman out alone in the cold rain when shelter was so close. And also, something made him suspicious about this woman. It would be best to have her close. She had refused to tell him more of herself and her origin rather than that her name was Fallon and she lived about two days west of there. He decided to try again. "Who is your family, girl?" he asked sternly, drawing his eyebrows together over his blue eyes and giving her his most fierce 'I will brook no nonsense' look.

She turned in her saddle quickly and leaned over so that her face was close to his. "I _do _have a name you know," she growled, "I would be much obliged if you did not call me 'girl.'" She sniffed. "I am a woman."

That she certainly was. She had neglected to pull her hood back up after they left the riverbank, and he had an unobstructed view of her damp black ringlets and lovely heart shaped face. Indeed, she had the body of a woman. As his eyes took in the sight of her petite yet voluptuous figure, he was surprised at his own audacity. Never before had he stared at a woman so impolitely, but even as he mentally berated himself for the action, he could not tear his eyes away from the small expanse of pale cleavage peeking out from the tight bodice of her dress. He forced himself to meet her eyes. Enchanting green eyes that were now lit up with anger and annoyance.

"Alright, _Fallon_," he said finally, stressing her name, "But you still have not answered my question."

She settled back on her mount and glared at him, her pretty pouting lips settled in a frown. "What if I choose not to answer your question, milord?" She used the title with heavy sarcasm and Salomon did not miss it.

He gritted his teeth and tried to reply civilly. "I wish that you would. Please." Using the word 'please' piqued his irritation even more.

She studied him for a moment. "Fine," she replied after a moment, "But there is not much to know. I am the daughter of two poor peasants, and I wanted to see more of the world. I left my home two days ago. I do not plan to go back for some time. That is all there is to tell."

He could see no lie in her cool green eyes, but still something about her tugged at his mind, as if warning him that something was amiss. "Very well," he said after a little while later, "But there is a large storm blowing in. It should be here by this evening or tomorrow morning. I don't know how long it will last, but it seems to be a bad one. You should stay there until it passes."

"I thank you for your hospitality," she replied icily, "But it's not as if I've never been out in a storm before. I am not frightened." She sniffed and lifted her chin haughtily.

Salomon growled under his breath in annoyance at the sensitiveness of this woman. "I did not accuse you of being frightened," he said through clenched teeth, "I am simply stating the facts that the storm will be bad, and you will need shelter. It is one of my duties to see to the safety of my cousin's people." His people, too. His future people, at least. "You will stay in the castle until the storm passes."

"Will you bodily force me to stay?" she snarled, "Or would you choose to use sweet reason?"

His anger now at a fever-pitch, he shot back, "Although I have not known you for more than half an hour, I can already see that no amount of 'sweet reasoning' would work with a woman so hard-headed as you! So, yes, I do plan to bodily force you to stay at Castle Dor until the storm passes if you refuse to stay willingly. If I were you, I would choose to stay willingly. The dungeons are not very comfortable." He knew he would not put her into a dungeon really, but she did not know that.

Fallon's cheeks reddened in indignation. "You wouldn't dare."

"I would," he lied, "But I won't if you accept my offer."

"Fine," she spat. Then she turned her head and refused to look at him for a long time. Salomon did not mind. He did not particularly want to argue with her anymore, and he enjoyed admiring her profile as he rode. She was a very beautiful woman.

After a while, they could see Castle Dor rising in the distance. He saw Fallon's mouth open a little in awe as she stared at the large structure. She quickly concealed her wonder, and turned to him.

"This is to be where I am staying?" she said.

Salomon nodded and dismounted. He took the reins of her horse lifted his hand to her. She stared at him a moment. Then finally, she placed her hand in his and dismounted. Of its own will, his heart beat faster at the feel of her warm little hand in his. Her skin was so soft and smooth. He longed to bring the small hand up to his lips and kiss it. A throat clearing called him from his thoughts. Fallon stood looking up at him and blushing. He realized that he had not let go of her hand yet. He dropped it with a murmured, "I'm sorry." He began walking away briskly. He called over his shoulder, "Follow me." He did not wait to see if she would.


	3. A Shadow of the Past

A Shadow of the Past

Fallon tried to conceal her awe of the largeness of the Castle Dor from Salomon. He already thought her some ignorant peasant. She was not going to give him more cause to think so. As she tried to keep up with his brisk stride, she wondered at the strange look in his eyes as helped her dismount. Behind those dark blue-gray pools was something she couldn't quite place, something that was dangerously close to lust.

She had not had much experience with the opposite sex at all in all her sixteen years. She had been admired by some since the years upon entering her womanhood, but none of them had awakened that passionate all-consuming feeling deep within her that she expected to feel when she was in love. No man had touched that cord in her soul that would make her theirs forever.

What she had seen in Salomon's eyes frightened her to think about. _Had _she seen _anything_? Could she be imagining it all? That was more likely. After all, he was nearly a king, and although she might by birth be the daughter of a princess, in rearing she was only a peasant's child.

As these thoughts passed through her mind, Fallon saw a woman staring at her. The woman was old, older than Erin- her foster mother- with hair that was more gray than brown. The skin of her face was slack with wrinkles. There was nothing really remarkable about her, except for the fact that she was staring at Fallon. Fallon returned the woman's gaze until she was nearly out of sight, and then, puzzled, turned to Salomon. "That woman back there," she said, "Who was that?"

"Hmmm?" He jerked and looked at her a moment. Then turned and looked over his shoulder at the older woman. "Oh her," he continued, turning back to Fallon, "That is Bragnae. She came here around seventeen years ago with Isolde, the princess of Ireland when she married Marke. She was the princess's maid. After Isolde disappeared, Bragnae remained, having no where else to go. Why?"

"No reason," Fallon replied quickly, "I was simply wondering." He turned his attention back to walking without question. Fallon looked back over her shoulder, searching vainly for the woman, but she had already gone. Fallon felt a pang of anguish in her heart at learning who this woman was. Bragnae, the maid of the Princess Isolde. She could tell Fallon things about her mother, provide her with more information than Erin or Willem could give her. But why had Bragnae been staring at her?

She realized that she was falling more and more behind Salomon and had to jog to keep up with his long strides. "Why don't you walk a little faster?" she mumbled sarcastically when she finally caught up to him.

He turned and looked at her darkly from beneath lowered eyebrows. She wondered why he had become so gloomy all of a sudden. True, he had not been very pleasant company before, but he had not been so dark looking either. The look in his eyes almost made her flinch. "Keep up," he said sternly. Then he continued walking.

Fallon huffed and rolled her eyes. "Could you at least tell me where exactly we're going?" she demanded.

"First," he turned to look at her again. A little of the sarcastic mockery that had been there before returned as he looked her up and down. She suddenly became aware of her drenched hair and cloak, and the way she must appear. She must look like a drowned rat. Her suspicions were confirmed when he continued, "I'll have you taken to a room and a maid sent up to prepare you. Then I will escort you to dinner where you will meet the king."

Fallon's eyebrows climbed to the top of her forehead. _Meet the king? _

Bragnae rushed to the room that she had been told to go to. She knew she was to be attending the mysterious girl she saw in the courtyard. The girl who looked startlingly like her former mistress, the princess Isolde. She didn't have the light hair, and some of her facial features were a bit more blunt. But her beautiful emerald eyes, ivory skin, and prominent cheek bones were those of Isolde. It had been almost 17 years since she had last seen the princess. This girl looked to be about 16. The time was right. Could it be? No, she couldn't dare to hope.

But as she continued down the hall, the thought kept popping up, unbidden in her mind. Could this be the daughter of Isolde and either Tristan or Lord Marke? Bragnae could not decide who would be the father if- _if_- this was in fact the long lost daughter of Isolde. It could certainly be either. But something inside Bragnae- some dreamy romantic part of herself- said that if Isolde conceived a child, it would have been Tristan's, a child conceived in love. True, Isolde had come to care for Lord Marke, but not as she loved Tristan. She had loved Tristan enough to risk the king's fury by going out to meet him regularly. And Bragnae knew that she had witnessed only a fraction of the depth of that love. She knew that the love of Tristan and Isolde ran deeper than anyone would ever know or understand.

She took a deep breath when she reached the door to the room that she knew the girl would be in. Then she slowly pushed the door open.

The startled young woman jumped and turned from the mirror she was looking into to stare at Bragnae. Her cloak was removed and thrown carelessly over a nearby chair. Her dark hair was drenched with rain and clung to her lovely face. Her dress was muddy, wet, and torn in some places. She certainly did not look like the daughter of a princess then. Bragnae had quite a bit of work cut out for her if this young woman was going to meet the king.

Bragnae curtsied in greeting. "Good evening, milady," she said meekly. She didn't really look like much of a lady, but if she was to have dinner with the king and Prince Salomon, she must be more than she appeared. "My name is Bragnae. I am to help you prepare for the evening."

The girl's sparkling green eyes- Isolde's eyes- widened a fraction. "Oh," she said softly, then a little louder, "My name is Fallon."

Fallon. So she finally had a name. She wondered…. No. It couldn't be. It was merely coincidence.

"If you would sit down please, milady," Bragnae began, but Fallon interrupted her.

"Please don't call me 'milady,'" she said hurriedly, an odd look coming into her eyes. "I am not a lady. Simply call me Fallon."

Bragnae hesitated a little before replying. It was odd for her to address someone she did not know very well by their first name. Finally she said, "All right… Fallon, if you would please sit down I can start working on the tangles in your hair." Fallon nodded and complied.

Bragnae walked to the back of the chair, gently took Fallon's head, and began working out the wet mass of tangles. After a moment, Fallon spoke. "I saw you in the courtyard," she said hesitatingly, "You were staring at me. Why?"

Bragnae flushed crimson and she was glad the girl could not see her. So she _had _noticed her staring. How could she have been so careless? Well she might as well answer the girl. "Oh, aye," she began nervously, "You just… you just looked like someone I used to know. An old charge of mine."

For some reason, Fallon's face paled visibly. Bragnae drew her brows together and looked at the girl in puzzlement. "What is it, child?" she asked, suddenly taking on a familiar and concerned tone that she had not taken often with anybody since Isolde's disappearance. "I'm sorry for staring, but I…"

"No, no," Fallon said hastily, "I'm not upset about that. It's just… well… I… Oh, never mind!"

After a moment, Bragnae continued with her brushing. Fallon really would be beautiful when she was cleaned up. That was obvious. She had lovely features under the dirt. She brushed out all of Fallon's long hair until it fell in soft curls down her back and shone. It was still a little damp from the rain- which you could now hear coming down hard outside- but it would dry well before dinner. "Here," she said as she dipped a cloth into a basin of lukewarm water, "Let me wash the dust off your face." She knelt in front of her and began to gently dab at her face. Bragnae noticed that her eyes were bright and shining with unshed tears. This confused her even more. But even as she opened her mouth to speak, Fallon blurted out:

"The charge you spoke of, she was the Princess Isolde."

It wasn't a question, but Bragnae nodded anyway. "Yes, I took care of her from the time she was a child until she disappeared almost 17 years ago. Why do you ask?"

Fallon opened her mouth a few times, making soft choking sounds, before speaking. Slowly a tear trickled down her cheek. "I… She…" Her voice trailed off to a whisper. "She was my mother."

Bragnae's hands fell away from Fallon's face, and she slumped down. What she had suspected was true. Now that Fallon had confirmed it, Bragnae could no longer deny. This was Isolde's child. Her daughter. As she looked into the young woman's eyes it was like looking into the eyes of her mother. She was a shadow of the past.


	4. Of Lust and Promises

Of Lust and Promises

Lord Marke of Cornwall set at the head of his great dining table patiently waiting for his dinner guests to arrive. He pondered a few things as he sat in wait, but what piqued his interest most was the young woman who his cousin was bringing to dine with them. It was immensely strange for a common girl to be invited to dine with the king and royal family… but Salomon was going to be king soon- his own health was fading quickly; he couldn't deny it- he could invite who he wanted to dine with them.

Marke was pleased with his choice of heir. Salomon, although he sometimes acted with the brash thoughtlessness of youth, was intelligent. He would make a good king. It _was _a pity that he hadn't had any children of his own though. He had not remarried after Isolde disappeared. So having no sons, he had chosen his cousin to succeed him on the throne. God willing Salomon would have the prospering family that Marke had never had. His future wife, Gwen, the daughter of an Irish prince of Caer-Goch, should be arriving any day now. They would be married almost immediately. Mark prayed for Salomon's sake that she would be fruitful.

Suddenly the great doors at the front of the room opened, and Marke looked up. His cousin, Salomon, walked in. Despite being only 19, he already looked like a seasoned warrior. His muscled limbs and chest spoke of relentless training and fierce battle, as did the hardness of his cool blue eyes. But it was not Salomon who riveted Marke's attention. It was who was on Salomon's arm. The girl was younger than his cousin, perhaps 16 or 17, and she was extremely beautiful. Something about her face stirred something in his mind, but he ignored the feeling, for he saw something in Salomon's eyes as he looked down on the young woman. Salomon wanted her. Marke immediately tensed. This was not going to turn out well.

It was certainly not unknown for a man to take other lovers and mistresses aside from his wife or his betrothed, but Marke knew Salomon's nature, and he wasn't sure if Salomon would be able to let go when it was time for him to wed the Lady Gwen. And he _had _to marry Gwen ferch Cynyr. Marke _and _Salomon had already given their word to Lord Cynyr Ceinfarfog.

Salomon bowed low and gave the young woman a pointed stare, after which she curtsied. "Cousin," Salomon said, "What a pleasure it is to dine with you again this evening." He gestured to the young woman. "This is Fallon. I found her a little ways away and invited her to take shelter here from the storm. I trust you do not mind that she be our guest for a while."

Yes, Marke wanted to say, but for the sake of courtesy and propriety, he refrained. "Of course not," he said instead with a smile, "You know any guest of yours is welcome here in Castle Dor, Salomon. Good evening, Fallon," he addressed the pretty young woman politely, "I you are welcome here for as long as you wish to stay."

Fallon blushed. "Thank you, Milord," she said quietly, not meeting his eyes, "But I'm sure I must be leaving soon. I have to go…." She paused thoughtfully. Finally she finished with, "Somewhere."

Marke felt a pang of pity rise up in his heart. It was obvious that the girl did not know where to go. He had once felt that some feeling of being lost in the world. It was just before he had been named King of Cornwall. The night that Tristan's parents and his own wife had been slain by the Irish.

He only had one objection to Fallon staying in the castle. Salomon. For all through dinner, the young man could barely keep his eyes off her.

After dinner Fallon walked around the wide corridors of Castle Dor trying to reach her room so she could go to bed. She had gotten turned around somewhere, and now she had no idea where she was. She didn't really mind. She had always loved to explore and find new things. What better a place to do it than a castle? She was also glad for the solitude. Aside from the brief time when she was talking with Bragnae, Salomon had been by her side. It was not that she disliked him really, but sometimes she would catch him looking at her in an unnerving way.

Suddenly, she got a feeling and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She turned swiftly, vainly grappling for the dagger she kept at her belt, only to remember that she had left her belt in her room. Luckily it was only Salomon. She wasn't in any real danger…. Was she?

He regarded her with that odd look in his light blue eyes, and it was all she could do to meet his gaze. "Are you lost, Fallon?" he asked finally, his deep voice resonating off the walls.

Fallon looked away nervously. "Yes," she replied quietly, "But I was rather enjoying exploring the castle. If that's alright?"

"No it's perfectly fine," he answered, walking closer to her, "But if you would like someone to show you all the interesting places and explain some things, I'd be happy to accompany you."

Fallon knew she should refuse him. But when she opened her mouth to tell him politely that she would be fine, these words came out, "I would like that very much. Thank you." She could have banged her head against the hard stone wall.

"Good," he said, smiling slowly. His voice was sensual, and despite her furious mental protests, she felt her body heat up and her heartbeat quicken. Why did he affect her so? No man had ever made her heart race like this.

Fallon reluctantly took the arm that Salomon offered and began walking with him. He was pleasant as they walked, and it seemed and utter change from how he had been that morning. He hadn't really been rude to her for the most part, but he certainly hadn't been as pleasant or polite as this. She briefly wondered why the change had come about, but soon she was too lost in his rich voice and the feel of his body so close to hers to notice anything.

"And this painting," he was saying, gesturing to a lovely picture of a beautiful sunrise on the bank of a river, "Was a gift from Lord Marke for the Princess Isolde. It is quite beautiful, is it not?"

"Yes, quite," Fallon murmured absently. The painting was beautiful, but Salomon was distracting her. She liked the way his strong jaw looked from the side and the way his firm lips looked as he spoke. She wondered what those lips would feel like on hers. Immediately she tried to push down the thought, but with the brief and fleeting image of him placing his lips firmly on hers, came others. Suddenly she wondered what it would be like for him to make love to her, and in her mind she saw him naked and covered in glistening sweat, moving above her, kissing her whole body. Her cheeks turned crimson at the thought. Unfortunately, it was then that Salomon decided to turn away from the picture and look at her.

"What is it?" he asked with an amused grin.

She blushed even deeper, and her heart raced. "Nothing," she replied breathlessly, but he shook his head.

The look on his face had changed from amusement to desire in an instant. His voice was deep and husky as he said, "No. You were thinking about exactly what I've been thinking about since I first touched your hand today at the stables."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she protested nervously as she took his arm from hers and began backing away.

"You know exactly what I'm speaking of," he persisted with that dangerous lusty look in his eyes. He took a step toward her, and Fallon thought that he had never looked so large or imposing or dangerous. She wondered what part of her was in danger. Her body or her heart? "Why else is your face as crimson as blood? Why else is your voice so breathless? Why else are your breasts heaving with your heavy breaths?"

Modestly, she brought her hands to her breasts and tried to steady her breathing. His comment had caused her to realize that her breathing was, in fact, threatening to force her breasts out of the tight bodice of her dress. "Sir!" she began to berate him, but he spoke over her.

"You're a beautiful woman, Fallon," he said as he took another step to her, "I noticed it right off. When you're this close to me, I have trouble breathing. I want you. Badly. I _need _you, Fallon." And with that, he swiftly closed the distance between them, and before she knew it, Fallon had her back pressed against the wall and was being quite thoroughly kissed. Of their own will, her lips parted and welcomed his exploring tongue. She moaned against his mouth as his tongue gently massaged hers, and her body couldn't help but respond. She grinded her pelvis into his thigh, trying vainly to soothe the growing need in her loins. She felt the hardness of his arousal pressed against her belly.

"Oh, Fallon, Fallon," he murmured when he took his mouth from hers only to place it on the sensitive skin of her neck. She whimpered in reply and tangled her fingers in his light hair. One of his hands came up to caress her breast. He massaged lightly causing flames of desire to run all the way up and down her body.

But as he reached down for the hem of her dress, a cold wave of realization came over her. This man did not love her. Salomon wanted her body. Nothing more. Maybe he would tire of her after a night, or maybe he would keep her for his pleasure longer, but either way he did not love her. Lord Marke had even mentioned his betrothal to another woman that night when they dined. No, he didn't love her. Not that she loved him. Now that she had control over herself, she realized both of those facts. They weren't in love. Certainly not. No. And she wasn't going to give herself to a man who she didn't love. Anyways, even if she did love him- which she didn't- nothing could ever come for them. He was to be married, and she was a commoner.

In the time it took her to think this, Salomon had gotten the hem of her dress up to her thighs and was quickly pushing it farther as his mouth went down searching for her breast. She knew that if she didn't stop him then, then she never would.

"No, milord," She used the title, hoping to dispel the closeness that now existed between them. She wanted to seem distant and uninterested. "Stop. I don't want this."

He took his mouth away from her breast and looked up at her with a sultry smile as he lightly caressed the tops of her thighs. "Don't want it? I know…."

She realized that force was the only thing that was going to stop him, and she knew she had to act quickly, for one of his hands was moving up between her legs. She slapped him as hard as she could across the face, so hard that her palm stung. That made him release her and back away with a surprised and angry look on his face.

"Teasing, wench!" he exclaimed furiously, "You lead me to believe…!"

"I led you to believe nothing, Sir!" she shot back just as angrily. She balled her hands into fists and her small body shook with rage. How dare he accuse her of being a teasing wench! "I said nothing to encourage your rash actions. You acted of your own will!"

"And what did you do to stop me before now?"

"I couldn't do anything sooner! But know that I will be ready next time. Your affections and caresses are not wanted by me." That was a lie. "So I suggest you bestow them elsewhere." She tossed her head with an arrogant sniff. She was glad that her face did not seem to betray her lie.

"Oh, trust me, I will," he hissed. And she knew that he was seething with wrath. "_You _are not worth my time or my affection." He whirled around and stalked back down the hall. With an angry growl, she turned and stomped off in the opposite direction.

Salomon was still shaking with ire by the time he reached his chamber. The nerve of that woman! He knew she had wanted him at the beginning, and yet she had seemed so vehement in her objections there right before he left her. How could she have changed so quickly?

Unfortunately for him, he still desired her. He thought that maybe if he had her once, his lust would be satiated, but how could he ever know that if she wouldn't have him? Her lips had been so soft and sweet. And her breasts! They had fit perfectly in his hand and had tasted wonderful under his mouth. He was still hard and thinking of Fallon like that was not helping.

Just as he picked up the pitcher of cold water that sat on his table and was about to pour it over him, a knock came at the door. He cursed softly then called out, "Enter."

The door opened, and to Salomon's immense surprise in walked his cousin, Lord Marke. Immediately, Salomon bowed. "I was not expecting you at this time, milord. Please sit." He led Marke to his most comfortable chair.

When he had gotten himself situated in the chair, Marke said, "Let us not be formal, Salomon. When we are alone, I am Marke. I came here to speak not as King, but as a man."

"Yes, mi… I mean Marke. What is it?" Salomon wondered what could be important enough for Marke to come to his chamber so late.

Marke sighed. "I came to speak to you of that young woman who dined with us tonight. Fallon."

Salomon wince inwardly, but he tried not to let it show. What exactly did Marke know? "What of her? She is…."

"You have seen her recently, have you not? Moments ago?"

Marke was irritatingly wise and perceptive. Salomon could have growled in annoyance, but he restrained himself. "Yes, but what…?"

"I can see it in your face. Your skin is flushed, and your breathing has not yet steadied totally. I also saw the way you looked at her tonight. And I want you to know that you cannot act of this desire, Salomon."

Salomon resisted the urge to deny, and instead said, "And why is that?"

"Because you are betrothed to another. You have promised to marry another woman."

Gwen. Salomon groaned aloud. He had met Gwen ferch Cynyr but once, and she was a pretty woman and seemed pleasant enough. But there hadn't been the attraction there that he now felt for Fallon. He was drawn to this mysterious raven-haired maiden more than he had been to any woman. He was so consumed with need for her that until now, he had totally forgotten about his impending marriage. He wished fleetingly that Fallon instead of Gwen could be his wife, but he immediately pushed the thought away. Gwen was royalty born and a proper woman for a king's wife. Fallon was not. Finally he said, "But many men take mistresses. And I am not even married to Gwen yet."

Mark shook his head. "Salomon, I know you. You have always been a passionate person, and whatever you care for you will not let go of without a fight. This woman would grow to be more than a mistress to you, and you would not be able to let her go. But you must marry Gwen."

"I could let her go," Salomon protested sullenly, "I know I could. I just… want her. Have you never wanted a woman, Cousin? Desired her so badly that it hurt?"

A nostalgic look came over the older man's eyes, but it quickly vanished and turned to firmness. "I know what you desire, but my command stands you _will _not act on this. Now I do speak as king. You must not. In a week's time Gwen will be here at Cornwall, and you will be married. You can wait that long and then your desires can be fulfilled, but not with Fallon. Never with Fallon. Gwen ferch Cynyr is your destiny." Marke yawned. "I grow tired. My health is failing me, Salomon. I am not the man I once was, and you will soon have to take my place as King of Cornwall. Take that place with a respectable wife and family. Do this for me." And then Marke left Salomon alone.

He undressed and lay down in his bed. His mind was torn. He loved Marke. He was his kinsman, and he was loyal to him. He should not go against his wishes. And yet, he was on fire for Fallon! His whole body cried out for her. He needed her. He tossed and turned in bed thinking of what it would be like to lay with her. He knew it would be amazing. But Marke was right. He had to marry Gwen. But other men took mistresses, and he _could _let go of Fallon if he wanted to…. Maybe. He hit his pillow and growled in frustration. This was going to be a sleepless night.


	5. Acknowledging Attraction

Acknowledging Attraction

The next morning, the drizzle of the day before finally broke into a violent storm. And Fallon sat on the edge of the bed in the guest room she had been given, watching it rage in the dim dawn hours. She hadn't gotten much sleep at all the night before. Thoughts of Salomon had kept her up, tossing and turning in the bed. She knew that nothing good would have come of letting him bed her, and yet, his lips had felt so good… so right. She sighed and curled up on her side, still staring vacantly out the window. Well, there was no way she could leave today. The storm was too bad for any traveling to take place. So unlike what she had hoped for, she could not simply slip out of the castle unnoticed. She would have to face Salomon again today. She wondered what it would be like to see him again. Would he be cruel to her? Would he try to pretend that nothing had happened? That would probably be for the best. In any case, she knew that meeting him again would be awkward. She should have just stayed home where she belonged.

A knock came at her door and without waiting to be admitted, Bragnae walked in. "I wasn't sure if you'd be up yet or not," she said as she looked at Fallon laying motionlessly on the big bed, "Good morning, lass."

Last night before the dinner, Fallon and Bragnae had talked for a long time, both about Fallon and the mother that she never knew. The old woman seemed glad to reminisce and tell Fallon a lot about Isolde. It surprised Fallon, but she already felt herself warming up to Bragnae. She was happy to have her company on this gloomy morning.

"Good morning, Bragnae," she mumbled as she sat up again.

Bragnae's brow creased in suspicion, and she scrutinized Fallon's face with her wise old eyes a moment before saying. "What's happened?"

Fallon's eyes widened in surprise. "How…?" she began with wonder, but she quickly checked herself. "Nothing," she finished.

Bragnae barked a short laugh. "I've lived long enough to know something's wrong when people have their emotions written on their faces. You don't seem to be too good at hiding things. Now, what is it? Don't deny that something is wrong. I know."

Fallon huffed and rolled onto her other side so she would not have to meet Bragnae's knowing eyes. "I do not wish to talk about it."

Bragnae sighed and began to straighten things about the room, all the while making small talk to fill the silence. Fallon grunted periodically to show that she was not asleep. After a few moments, Bragnae came back and sat down on the bed beside her. "You remind me of your mother," she said quietly.

Fallon smiled sadly. Bragnae had told her that what seemed like a thousand times the night before. It was obvious that she missed her former charge. Fallon wished she could have known her mother.

"The way you act, your beauty, your whole manner," the aging woman continued, "She used to confide in me, you know. You could do the same."

Fallon rolled back towards her. "It's really not important," she said finally.

Bragnae shrugged. "Maybe not, but that doesn't change the fact that it's bothering you."

Fallon had to agree with that. She sighed again. "It doesn't matter. Honestly."

"It is about the young Lord Salomon, is it not?"

Fallon gaped at her. How did the woman know so bloody much? Fallon mentally berated herself for being all to obvious. She wiped the stunned look of her face. "Of course not," she lied, "Why would he be of any importance to me?"

Bragnae shrugged and absently picked at a loose thread on the sheets. "I don't know…. Maybe because he is young and handsome and has obviously been admiring you since you two met yesterday morning."

Fallon blushed. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Don't try to lie to me," Bragnae warned, "I will always no. Your mother found that out. When I brought out the wine at dinner last night, I saw the way he looked at you. And then later when I came to inquire if you needed anything last night, you had just gotten in your room. Your cheeks were flushed- much like they are now- and you wouldn't let me get two words in. You practically slammed the door in my face. I may be old, but I'm not a dolt."

_No, she's certainly far from that,_ Fallon thought with a surge of irritation. "I was tired, and I wanted to get to bed. My actions last night had nothing to do with Lord Salomon," she lied.

Bragnae snorted her disbelief. "I'm sure," she said with sarcasm. Then after a pause, she added with a little more compassion, "I was young once, and though I never was as beautiful as you or your mother, I had my share of suitors in my youth. I know what it's like to desire and be desired."

Fallon blushed again, her face turning a bright shade of crimson all the way up to her raven locks. "I do not desire him!" she exclaimed with indignation, "And he most certainly does _not _desire me!" Her blush deepened as images of their brief passion play the night before appeared in her mind. If Bragnae had seen that then there would be no denying how she desired Salomon, but luckily Fallon knew that no one had been near them.

Bragnae chortled. "Oh, and I suppose you were all hot and bothered last night for nothing?"

If at all possible, Fallon's cheeks turned even brighter. "I was _not_…!" she began heatedly, but she cut off with a growl, realizing that arguing would get her nowhere. It had become clear that there would be no deceiving Bragnae. "Oh! I just don't want to discuss it!" She felt like yelling at her, telling her that she had no business talking to her so personally… but she couldn't. For some reason, Fallon felt a kinship with the older woman. Probably because of her close ties with her mother. It seemed natural to talk like this with Bragnae. After a moment of silence, she sighed in resignation then said softly, "I don't even know him."

Bragnae shrugged. "But who's to say how long it takes for two people to develop an attraction? Maybe it's something that will vanish as quickly as it appeared." She met Fallon's eyes. "But maybe not."

Fallon held her gaze and found herself wondering about Bragnae's past. There seemed to be some emotional ties with what she was telling Fallon. But whether there was something like this in Bragnae's past or not, Fallon did not want to delve into it right then. She had enough on her mind. All that she could seem to think about were Salomon's insistent lips on hers and his hands urgently massaging her breasts. She could have moaned aloud at the need the memory stirred. He had awaked foreign feelings in her soul and body. Desires and needs that she knew that only he could satisfy.

"It doesn't matter," she said finally, the gloom in her voice fitting in perfectly with the weather, "He is nobly born, and I am not." She spoke both to herself and Bragnae.

"Ah, but you forget, my dear," Bragnae said as she lifted her eyebrows, "You _are _indeed nobly born. Maybe not nobly raised, but nobility is in your blood."

Fallon sat up straighter and looked at Bragnae with alarm. "You won't tell anyone will you? I don't want them to know. I just wanted to see where my mother and father lived, and then I was to be on my way. I am leaving as soon as this storm lets up." And that could not happen soon enough.

Bragnae's wrinkled face sagged in what Fallon took for as disappointment. "Of course I won't if you do not wish it, but…. Well, I was hoping you might choose to stay for a little while." She looked away towards the window where the storm was still raging. "It's just that I was so close to your mother," she continued in a soft voice, "She was the only thing I had for so long, and then when she disappeared. It's been rather lonely these years…. But then when I saw you yesterday, I thought maybe…. But if you must go, then you must go."

Fallon felt her resolve to be away from Castle Dor dissolving as she realized just how alone Bragnae must have felt for the past 16 years. She had devoted most of her life to catering to her mother. Fallon sighed, "Well," she said with a shrug, "I suppose a few days here wouldn't be too bad." She didn't know how much truth there was in that last statement. A few more days around Salomon could prove to be very _very _bad indeed.

Bragnae smiled a slightly sad smile of thanks. "I appreciate you indulging an old woman in her few pleasures. Know that anything you would like to know of your mother, I will gladly tell you." She sighed in frustration and began moving to the door. "But now I have some duties to attend to. I will come to you later tonight though, after dinner." When she was about half way to the door she paused. "Wait a moment. I'll be right back." And before Fallon could question what she was doing, Bragnae was out the door.

True to her word, only moments later, Bragnae returned. In her arms she carried a trunk. It wasn't a large trunk, but she was panting with the toll it took on her aging body so Fallon bounded from her seat at the bed to help her. They sat it down on the floor and Fallon asked, "What's this?"

Bragnae kneeled and open the trunk. Inside were fine, neatly folded, dresses. Fallon gasped at the sheer beauty and elegance of the garments. She had never owned any clothing half so marvelous as these. "They belonged to your mother," Bragnae told her.

Fallon's eyes widened as Bragnae pulled out the most beautiful dress she had ever seen in her life. It was made of flowing ruby red silk and had a gold flower pattern traveling up from the bottom hem to the hip. The neckline was cut in a low V. She reached out and felt the soft fabric. It was certainly a dress befitting a queen.

Bragnae thrust it out to her. "Put it on."

Fallon gaped. "I couldn't!"

"It was your mother's. Since she is no longer with us, it is rightfully yours. Of course you could."

"But won't Lord Marke notice…."

"Lord Mark is nearly as old as I am. He will not remember a dress that Isolde wore 16 years ago. Here. I'll help you."

Fallon hadn't dressed that morning and was only wearing her thin cotton shift. She took the lovely red dress from Bragnae's hands carefully. She stepped into it, pulled it up, stuck her arms into the sleeves, and then turned for Bragnae to do up the laces. Bragnae performed the task with skill, if not gentleness. A few times, she jerked the laces of the bodice so tight that Fallon gasped for breath. When she finished, she moved Fallon over to a full sized mirror so she could see herself.

"My, my," was all Bragnae said as Fallon stared at the woman in the mirror, hardly believing that it was her. She looked beautiful and regal. The neckline swooped down, revealing a tantalizing amount of ivory bosom and pale shoulders. The long sleeves flowed down until they just barely showed the tips of her slender fingers. The red silk sheathed her lush curves perfectly.

"Bragnae," she breathed, "It's beautiful!"

Bragnae nodded. "That it is, child. You look like royalty now. You look even more like your mother."

Fallon still could not tear her gaze from her reflection. It seemed as if she didn't even know the woman staring back at her.

"Here," Bragnae said after a moment. She reached for a brush. "Let me brush your hair."

Fallon waited patiently as Bragnae quickly and deftly worked through the few tangles in her raven black locks. When she was finished, the dark hair flowed in soft curls down to her mid back and over her partially exposed shoulders. Fallon couldn't help but steal another look at her reflection. She _did _look beautiful. Her eyes wondered down her body, and the only thought that came unbidden to her mind was: _Salomon's blood will boil when he sees me in this! _She blushed.

Salomon was practicing swords with another young noble staying at Castle Dor. Since the storm was raging outside, they battled in one of the large banquet rooms rather than the courtyard. He brought his wooden blade down on the other young man's mercilessly. Sweat glistened on his bare chest, and he was panting. He always put his best effort into practicing the arts of war, but this afternoon he had worked even harder than he usually did. He was frustrated. Frustrated by his pending marriage and frustrated even more by his unceasing desire for Fallon. He had laid awake most of the night wishing she were there in the bed with him. He did a lot of thinking also.

And as he though near the early morning hours before dawn, he came to a revelation. His desire for Fallon was not only for her body, but also for her spirit, her soul. He found it odd, outrageous even, but for some reason it seemed as if he had known her forever, as if they were made for each other. It was absurd he knew, but he simply could not banish the thought.

He happened to glance away from his opponent for an instant and what he saw made his breath catch in his throat.

Fallon was strolling aimlessly a little ways away. She paused and began to examine an old vase, lightly tracing the carvings in it with her slim delicate fingers. She looked amazingly beautiful. Her long midnight black hair cascaded down her back and bare shoulders. The beautiful red silk dress she was wearing fit her like her was sure no other dress could. Her already tempting shape looked even more alluring. He barely bit back a groan of need as he looked at her perfectly formed breasts and bottom. She was….

"Umph!" The wind was knocked out of him, and clutching his side where his practice partner's sword had made contact, he fell to the ground. He growled in frustration. Damn the woman for being able to distract him so! He ground his teeth against the sharp pain as he felt around making sure that none of his ribs had been fractured. He directed a piercing glare at the other man as he pushed himself to his feet. Finally he forced himself to say, "Good hit," in acknowledgement to the young man's win. He wouldn't have been able to win if not for Fallon. He turned and stalked off, leaving his sword partner and the other men who had gathered there, toward where she was standing, still innocently examining the vase, unaware of the commotion she had caused.

When she finally looked up just as Salomon was nearing her. A startled and somewhat frightened look came to her face. She turned without so much as a nod of acknowledgment and began to briskly walk away. But Salomon would have none of it. He quickened his pace and followed her. She looked over her shoulder and must have seen the anger in his eyes for her pace became even faster. She walked and he followed her for a few moments, but since she was unfamiliar with the castle halls, she walked herself right into a dead end.

"Is there something I can help you with, milord?" she asked icily as she folded her arms beneath her breasts.

Salomon angrily opened his mouth, but then he realized he didn't know what to say. He couldn't really yell at her for distracting him just by her mere presence. So instead of speaking he just gazed at her and she at him. He noted with a hint of triumph that her eyes lingered for a long while on the gleaming muscles of his chest and abdomen. He let his eyes wander lazily down her form. He loved the way her ample bosom tapered down to her slim waist and then her lovely hips. He could just see the outline of her shapely legs through the thin material of the dress. His breathing quickened of its own accord.

He knew he had to say something soon or they would be in just the same position that they were in the night before. "That… that is a… umm… lovely dress," he finally managed, bringing his gaze back up to her emerald eyes.

She blushed scarlet. Then said, "And did you follow me here with that lethal look in your eyes just to tell me that?" Anger flashed in her eyes, and thunder rumbled loudly outside.

Salomon sighed. "I want to apologize to you, Fallon." He had to force the words out. Growing up as a prince, he wasn't used to having to apologize. "For… erm… last night." He cleared his throat nervously.

She blushed again. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, searching for words, finally she managed, "I accept your apology." After she said the words, she looked as if she had eaten something sour. Salomon could tell that she didn't care much for apologies and the like either.

Salomon stared down at the floor awkwardly, studying the patterns etched in the stone so he would have an excuse not to stare at the beautiful young woman standing in front of him. Finally, she voiced the exact thought that was on his mind. "But how are we going to prevent it from happening again?" she asked quietly.

At last, Salomon looked up into her eyes. "I have no idea, Fallon. I don't know if we can."

Okay so end of chapter 5. What did you guys think? I'm having a little trouble trying to keep Bragnae in character because she wasn't really a huge part of the movie and it's been awhile since I've seen it anyways so it's hard for me to remember what she's like exactly. I may give her a little back story in one of the future chapters I'm not sure though. I also plan to bring in Salomon's betrothed, Gwen, in the next chapter so things should get a bit interesting… ;) Anyways please please please review!


	6. Emotions Rage

Emotions Rage

It had been a little over two weeks since Fallon had first arrived with Salomon at Castle Dor. Due to the pleading of Bragnae, Lord Marke had offered her a job as a serving maid. Having nowhere else to go, Fallon accepted. Since the first two days of her arrival and stay at the castle, she had avoided Salomon like the plague. Now that she was one of the maids, she did not dine with Lord Marke and the other nobles, so she did not have to worry about running into him at her meals. And throughout the day, if she saw him near, she would run down the nearest corridor, not caring where it went just wanting to stay away from him. The words he had said when she asked him how they were going to prevent something happening between them again played over and over again in her mind.

"I don't know if we can."

She didn't know if they could either. That was why she avoided him. But every time she saw him, just before she found some place to hide, a fleeting part of her wanted to run to him and throw herself into his arms. She wanted to tell him how foolish she had been for making him stop that first night. She wanted to beg him to take her to his rooms and make love to her again and again. But then cold reason would wash over her, and she would know that she couldn't do that. That they could never be.

Fallon forced herself to rise from her bed. She looked longingly at the trunk that rested in the corner of the small bed chamber. Her mother's dresses were in there. She wished she could put one of them on. They made her feel so beautiful, so elegant. But maids didn't wear that sort of thing. Instead, she reached for her drab brown servant's frock. Two weeks ago, before she had ever left her small country home, the dress would have seemed normal, maybe even better, but after having spent a few days in the beautiful silk gowns of her mother, they seemed like rags.

She looked at herself in the mirror as she laced up the bodice, unlike her mother's gowns this one laced in the front. She did have to admit that it flattered her plump breasts. Salomon had certainly stared the other day. She blushed and mentally berated herself. Why was it that every time she got dressed in the morning, she thought about what _he _would think?

With only a single knock as warning, Bragnae rushed into the room in a whirlwind. Fallon turned from the mirror, and regarded a panting Bragnae with a raised eyebrow.

"Fallon," she huffed without even giving Fallon the chance to speak, "You must come quickly. You are needed."

"Good morning to you too, Bragnae," Fallon mumbled as she pulled her long black hair over her shoulder and began to tie it back into a braid. "Tell me what I am needed for while I attempt to finish this."

Bragnae sighed exasperatedly. "Hurry, hurry!" she commanded, "We need to go make ready the Lady Gwen's bed chamber."

Fallon turned to Bragnae with a scowl. Her relatively good mood had disappeared upon hearing that name. "I thought she wasn't arriving for another two days at least," she mumbled sullenly.

"That's what we all thought," Bragnae replied, unaware of Fallon's swift change of mood, "But Lord Marke has just informed me that she and her father and their escorts have been spotted and should be arriving before noon. We don't have much time to prepare. Hurry!"

Fallon quickly tied off her long braid and followed Bragnae out of the room. She walked close on Bragnae's heels, her anger growing hotter as they neared Lady Gwen's room. She was angry with Gwen ferch Cynyr for arriving, angry with Salomon for marrying her, and angry with herself for being angry.

They spent the whole morning readying the lady's chamber. Fallon wished she had a snake or some bugs on hand to put in Gwen's bed. She would take much satisfaction to her Lady Gwen scream in terror and revulsion.

She knew that she shouldn't be jealous. She shouldn't care. She had known from the beginning that Salomon could never love her, much less marry her. She had known he was to marry Gwen. She knew it was for the best.

Then why was it that when she heard the trumpets sound, announcing the arrival of the Lady Gwen and her father, that tears of hurt filled her emerald eyes.

Bragnae came to stand beside her at the window that looked out at the front of the castle grounds. Fallon watched as a young woman with long curled golden-red hair dismounted her sleek white horse. She could tell even from that view that the woman was beautiful. Beauty and wealth? Certainly nothing she could hope to compete with. A small tear trickled down her cheek.

Bragnae looked at her as she tucked strands of gray hair back into her bun. She followed Fallon's gaze down to Gwen ferch Cynyr. "Fallon," she said softly, "You knew this would happen."

Fallon laughed mirthlessly. "That's what I've been telling myself all morning."

"You mustn't do this," Bragnae persisted, "I won't have you ending up like your mother."

"You need not advise me, Bragnae," Fallon said bitterly, "Nothing will come of this. Lord Salomon will marry Lady Gwen. I will play no part in it."

Bragnae regarded her for a long time. "You know it is not that simple," she said finally.

"Why would it not be simple?" she asked, becoming angry, "He doesn't want _me_! He wants _her_! Well he'll have her! What's not simple about that?"

Bragnae drew her into her arms as she was succumbed to childish sobbing. To her embarrassment, she blubbered like a babe in the older woman's arms for far too long. Why did she ever leave her home? None of this would have happened if she had just been content to stay put. Why couldn't she have been happy where she was?

Salomon sat to the left of Marke and across from his betrothed, Gwen, that evening at supper. He was a lucky man. At least he wasn't to be joined with an ugly or repulsive woman. No, Gwen was very desirable. She had long flowing golden-red hair, sparkling blue eyes, an attractive figure. What more could a man ask for?

_But she's not Fallon, _reminded a small voice in his mind.

He shook his head slightly, vainly trying to silence the voice.

_That doesn't matter, _he insisted, _She doesn't matter to me._

But he knew as soon as he thought it that that was most definitely a lie. Fallon mattered a great deal to him. For a reason inexplicable to him, he felt as if he belonged with Fallon, that they had always belonged together. Every time he looked at her, every time he thought about her voice, every time he thought about her smile, his heart felt as though it would burst. He thought, despite having only known her for a short time, that he was falling in love with her.

That notion was reinforced by the fact that although Gwen was a pretty and desirable enough woman every time he looked at her he felt like he wanted to throw up. Every time he looked at her and saw her light hair and blue eyes he wanted to run from the room. He wanted to run from the room and find the enchanting maid with dark hair and green eyes who had stolen his heart.

He remembered that it would seem impolite if he didn't at least speak to Gwen. "Are you very tired from your journey, Lady Gwen?" he asked out of politeness. His thoughts were elsewhere.

"No, not very, milord," she replied in a soft timid voice. She was nothing like Fallon. Fallon was strong and brave. She had been defiant and outspoken to him even after she found that he was a noble. Gwen, a noble herself, was weak and soft spoken. He didn't know how he would be able to live with her.

"That is well," Marke cut in when an awkward silence descended on the table, "Your wedding will take place in two nights. I trust you are ready."

Gwen's father, Lord Cynyr Ceinfarfog answered for her. "Yes, Marke," he said in his gruff voice, "She is ready. If she's anything like her mother, she'll bear strong children. Your cousin is lucky to have her."

"Most certainly," Marke responded.

Then the door opened and Fallon walked in carrying another basket of rolls. Salomon willed desperately for her to look at him. He wanted to speak to her, to look into her eyes. But, like she had been of late, she avoided meeting his gaze.

"Wench!" Lord Ceinfarfog called just as she was about to exit the room, "More wine."

"Yes, milord," Fallon said as she retrieved the wine pitcher. She obediently walked over to him and filled his cup full. As she was turning to walk away, he reached out with one of his meaty hands and pinched her bottom. For an instant, Salomon saw anger and indignation flare in her eyes, but she quelled her emotions and walked away without a word.

Salomon started up from the table, fixing Lord Ceinfarfog with furious glare. His mouth was open ready to pour forth a tirade of wrath, but he felt Marke's hand on his knee under the table, trying to restrain him. Salomon looked to his cousin's eyes and red what the older man was thinking: _Don't let your heart get ahead of your sense._

Salomon gritted his teeth against the rage and tried to calm himself, but the image of the grubby old man's hand on Fallon kept forcing its way into his mind. He kept his silence through the meal, sullenly staring down at his food. He knew that if he looked at his soon-to-be father-in-law too much, he might explode.

Later that night, Salomon bid goodnight to Marke, Lord Ceinfarfog, and his betrothed and went desperately searching for Fallon. He had to at least see her. He wanted to tell her of the revelation that he had had, that he loved her, but he didn't know if he should. What good could come of it? Maybe she didn't even return the sentiment. And even if she did, he still had to marry Gwen….. But still, he wanted her to know.

He raced up and down the long corridors. Every time he saw a woman in the castle's maids livery, his breath caught in his throat and his heart leapt, but then she would turn and it wouldn't be Fallon, and he would begin his search again.

It was getting late, and he almost considered giving up, but as he rounded the nest corner, he saw another maid. His heart didn't race for he knew this could not be Fallon. This woman's hair was iron gray and pulled back into a bun. It was Bragnae.

"Bragnae!" he called as she began to walk away.

She turned back to him with a look of surprise. "Yes, milord?"

"Bragnae," he replied out of breath from all the running he had been doing, "I'm looking for Fallon. Do you know where she is?"

Bragnae bit her lip, and her wrinkles deepened as she creased her forehead in indecision. "I don't know if I should do that, milord. I…"

"What do you mean you shouldn't do that?" Salomon shouted angrily, "I am to be King of Cornwall when my cousin passes. You owe me respect! Now, where is she?"

Bragnae regarded him warily. "Milord, forgive me, but may I speak freely?"

Salomon gritted his teeth in anger, but he reminded himself that Bragnae was not the cause of his frustration. He let out his breath slowly, trying to calm himself. "Yes, Bragnae. What would you like to say?"

She took a deep breath. "I care deeply for Fallon. She reminds me of…." A nostalgic look came into her old eyes, but she shook her head and returned to the present. "Someone. I love her like a daughter. The last thing I want is for her to get hurt. Do you take my meaning, Sir?"

Salomon stared at her sadly for a moment. "Yes, but…." He trailed off. He didn't want to stand there and pour his heart out to one of the maids. "I don't want to hurt her," he finished.

"I know you don't," she replied, "But just because you don't want her to hurt doesn't mean she won't."

"Will you please just tell me where she is?" he pleaded, "I need to see her."

Bragnae sighed. "Nothing good will come of this," she muttered under her breath. Then louder, "She is finished with her duties for the night. She just went out to the garden. She said she would be there for a while, so you shouldn't miss her."

"Thank you!" Salomon called over his shoulder as he turned and ran towards the garden.

When he got outside, he had to pause and take a deep breath of fresh air. It was such a lovely night. A wonderful night to be out strolling the gardens with Fallon. He looked up and saw that there wasn't a cloud in the sky. The stars twinkled down on him. He took another deep breath, and prayed that Fallon wouldn't try to get away from him tonight.

He found her sitting on a bench staring up at the beautiful sky. She had undone her braid, and her raven locks fell in waves over her milk-white shoulders and down her back. He longed to walk behind her and run his hands through that beautiful hair, but he restrained himself. Instead he went and sat down beside her.

She gave a startled jump and then moved as if to leave. But Salomon caught her hand and said in a soft voice, "Please stay, Fallon."

To his pleasure, she relaxed back down onto the bench. When she tried to pull her hand away, he held onto it and brought it up to his lips. He gently kissed it. Fallon blinked at him in bewilderment.

"You… you know we cannot do this," she said sadly.

"And why can't we?" he asked, even though he knew the answer all too well. He placed another kiss on her hand. This one was more passionate, more needy.

"You are to be married," she whispered.

He looked into her emerald eyes. They were wide and shining with unshed tears. "But I'm not married yet," he protested as he held her gaze.

"But you will be!" she argued hotly, wrenching her hand from his grasp and standing up, "And then what? Then I'll just be some woman you come to when you tire of your wife! I will not be your mistress, Salomon!"

Salomon stood up, still looking at her. "But don't realize," he entreated, "That you already mean more to me than any mistress ever could? Don't you realize you mean more to me than… her?" He couldn't even bring himself to say his betrothed's name.

A big tear rolled down Fallon's cheek. "Don't play games with me, Salomon," she said softly, "You proved very well what you wanted from me on the first night I was here."

Salomon couldn't suppress his groan. He wished that he had never let himself get so out of control that night. He didn't want her to think that he only wanted her for a bedmate. "Fallon," he said, taking a step closer to her, "I already apologized for that…. I was thinking. Of course I want you in that way, Fallon. But please believe when I say I want much much more from you."

She was crying openly now. "More that I can't give, Salomon!" she sobbed, "You're a promised man!"

Salomon enfolded her in his arms and held her tightly to his chest, wondering how he managed to keep from crying himself. He ran his hands over her silky tresses and down her back as he murmured soothing words to persuade her to stop crying. When at last, her sobs had dwindled down to soft whimpers and sighs, he whispered, "I love you, Fallon."

She liked up at him then. Her lip quivered and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her senseless, but he waited for her reply. "Oh, I love you," she moaned, "God forgive me, I love you." Then he kissed her.

In that moment when his lips were pressed to hers, he was in heaven. It wasn't like the first kiss they had shared, not a wholly sexual, lusty kiss. This was a kiss of passionate love. Neither of them was holding anything back. Neither of them was putting up any resistance. Salomon held her against him with one arm, and he held her head tilted up to his with one of his big hands. He murmured her name against her mouth as he traced her high elegant cheekbone with his thumb. He loved the feel of her soft lips against his. He loved the taste of her mouth.

They parted some time later. Fallon rested her head against his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist as she recovered her breath. "What are we going to do?" she asked him softly.

Salomon stroked her hair silently for a moment before replying, "I wish I knew."

She nodded and pulled away. "I must go," she said, "Bragnae will certainly be waiting to see when I retire." She hesitated a moment. "When can I see you again? I mean, like this, alone."

Salomon's spirits soared at her words. He was so happy that she was willing to be with him despite everything. "Tomorrow night," he replied hurriedly, "And the night after that. My next two nights are yours." The statement that after that time, his nights would be Gwen's hung unspoken between them.

She nodded and smiled sadly. "I love you," she said softly then turned and quickly ran out of the garden.

"I love you, Fallon!" he called after her. He turned back and sat on the bench with is head in his hands, not yet ready to retire to his rooms.

Neither of them had seen the third person watching them from behind some nearby bushes.

Gwen ferch Cynyr stormed back to her chamber furiously. The little scene she had just witnessed in the garden played over and over again in her mind, enraging her. How could this be happening? Here she was, trying to make the best out of an unwanted marriage, and her husband-to-be was already running to the arms of some other woman! And not even a noblewoman! A serving wench! The whole situation was preposterous to her.

She was so angry that when she got to her room, she slammed open the door, and it rebounded from the wall with a thundering boom. Rowena, her personal lady's maid, who had been sitting on the edge of Gwen's bed, jumped so high that she nearly fell to the floor. Gwen didn't so much as utter one word of apology.

"The nerve of that pig!" she exclaimed as she through herself down beside Rowena, "How dare he do this to me?"

"What is it, milady?" Rowena asked in her timid voice.

Rowena was her own age and had been her friend as well as her servant for many years, so Gwen did not mind speaking of personal matters with her. "Lord Salomon," she said through gritted teeth, investing buckets of scorn into the title, "Is tumbling one of the serving wenches." She didn't actually know if he was bedding her or not; she hadn't been able to hear all of their conversation. But she had heard enough.

Rowena gave a small giggle. Gwen barely kept herself from smacking the other woman silly. "Forgive me, milady," she said, "But that is not so bad. Most men have mistresses. 'Tis a known fact."

"I know that," Gwen growled, "But he told her he _loved _her. That I cannot abide!"

"Well," Rowena reasoned, "He is young, and he is probably bewildered by this arranged marriage. He is probably just turning to this servant for comfort. He doesn't know what he's saying. You just wait after we're married. You're a beautiful woman. He'll want no one else after he has you."

Gwen snorted. "You obviously understand nothing of men, Rowena. They want what they can't have no matter how good what they do have is."

"Well, you are much smarter than me, Miss. What are you going to do?"

Gwen thought for a moment. Then she decided on a plan of action. "I'm going to make that little wench regret ever looking higher than her station," she said, more to herself than to Rowena. Then louder, looking to her maid, she said, "Make sure that a young maid named Fallon attends me as often as you can, Rowena. I will quell this little relationship before it gets too far."

How did you guys like it? I was going to do a little more, but I figured I would save it for the next chapter. I'll try to update as soon as possible. Please please please **review** and tell me what you think. Sorry if there are any typos and such, I checked, but it was like 3 in the morning when I finished this so I might have missed something.

Thank you for all the nice reviews! I appreciate them greatly.

Emotions Rage

It had been a little over two weeks since Fallon had first arrived with Salomon at Castle Dor. Due to the pleading of Bragnae, Lord Marke had offered her a job as a serving maid. Having nowhere else to go, Fallon accepted. Since the first two days of her arrival and stay at the castle, she had avoided Salomon like the plague. Now that she was one of the maids, she did not dine with Lord Marke and the other nobles, so she did not have to worry about running into him at her meals. And throughout the day, if she saw him near, she would run down the nearest corridor, not caring where it went just wanting to stay away from him. The words he had said when she asked him how they were going to prevent something happening between them again played over and over again in her mind.

"I don't know if we can."

She didn't know if they could either. That was why she avoided him. But every time she saw him, just before she found some place to hide, a fleeting part of her wanted to run to him and throw herself into his arms. She wanted to tell him how foolish she had been for making him stop that first night. She wanted to beg him to take her to his rooms and make love to her again and again. But then cold reason would wash over her, and she would know that she couldn't do that. That they could never be.

Fallon forced herself to rise from her bed. She looked longingly at the trunk that rested in the corner of the small bed chamber. Her mother's dresses were in there. She wished she could put one of them on. They made her feel so beautiful, so elegant. But maids didn't wear that sort of thing. Instead, she reached for her drab brown servant's frock. Two weeks ago, before she had ever left her small country home, the dress would have seemed normal, maybe even better, but after having spent a few days in the beautiful silk gowns of her mother, they seemed like rags.

She looked at herself in the mirror as she laced up the bodice, unlike her mother's gowns this one laced in the front. She did have to admit that it flattered her plump breasts. Salomon had certainly stared the other day. She blushed and mentally berated herself. Why was it that every time she got dressed in the morning, she thought about what _he _would think?

With only a single knock as warning, Bragnae rushed into the room in a whirlwind. Fallon turned from the mirror, and regarded a panting Bragnae with a raised eyebrow.

"Fallon," she huffed without even giving Fallon the chance to speak, "You must come quickly. You are needed."

"Good morning to you too, Bragnae," Fallon mumbled as she pulled her long black hair over her shoulder and began to tie it back into a braid. "Tell me what I am needed for while I attempt to finish this."

Bragnae sighed exasperatedly. "Hurry, hurry!" she commanded, "We need to go make ready the Lady Gwen's bed chamber."

Fallon turned to Bragnae with a scowl. Her relatively good mood had disappeared upon hearing that name. "I thought she wasn't arriving for another two days at least," she mumbled sullenly.

"That's what we all thought," Bragnae replied, unaware of Fallon's swift change of mood, "But Lord Marke has just informed me that she and her father and their escorts have been spotted and should be arriving before noon. We don't have much time to prepare. Hurry!"

Fallon quickly tied off her long braid and followed Bragnae out of the room. She walked close on Bragnae's heels, her anger growing hotter as they neared Lady Gwen's room. She was angry with Gwen ferch Cynyr for arriving, angry with Salomon for marrying her, and angry with herself for being angry.

They spent the whole morning readying the lady's chamber. Fallon wished she had a snake or some bugs on hand to put in Gwen's bed. She would take much satisfaction to her Lady Gwen scream in terror and revulsion.

She knew that she shouldn't be jealous. She shouldn't care. She had known from the beginning that Salomon could never love her, much less marry her. She had known he was to marry Gwen. She knew it was for the best.

Then why was it that when she heard the trumpets sound, announcing the arrival of the Lady Gwen and her father, that tears of hurt filled her emerald eyes.

Bragnae came to stand beside her at the window that looked out at the front of the castle grounds. Fallon watched as a young woman with long curled golden-red hair dismounted her sleek white horse. She could tell even from that view that the woman was beautiful. Beauty and wealth? Certainly nothing she could hope to compete with. A small tear trickled down her cheek.

Bragnae looked at her as she tucked strands of gray hair back into her bun. She followed Fallon's gaze down to Gwen ferch Cynyr. "Fallon," she said softly, "You knew this would happen."

Fallon laughed mirthlessly. "That's what I've been telling myself all morning."

"You mustn't do this," Bragnae persisted, "I won't have you ending up like your mother."

"You need not advise me, Bragnae," Fallon said bitterly, "Nothing will come of this. Lord Salomon will marry Lady Gwen. I will play no part in it."

Bragnae regarded her for a long time. "You know it is not that simple," she said finally.

"Why would it not be simple?" she asked, becoming angry, "He doesn't want _me_! He wants _her_! Well he'll have her! What's not simple about that?"

Bragnae drew her into her arms as she was succumbed to childish sobbing. To her embarrassment, she blubbered like a babe in the older woman's arms for far too long. Why did she ever leave her home? None of this would have happened if she had just been content to stay put. Why couldn't she have been happy where she was?

Salomon sat to the left of Marke and across from his betrothed, Gwen, that evening at supper. He was a lucky man. At least he wasn't to be joined with an ugly or repulsive woman. No, Gwen was very desirable. She had long flowing golden-red hair, sparkling blue eyes, an attractive figure. What more could a man ask for?

_But she's not Fallon, _reminded a small voice in his mind.

He shook his head slightly, vainly trying to silence the voice.

_That doesn't matter, _he insisted, _She doesn't matter to me._

But he knew as soon as he thought it that that was most definitely a lie. Fallon mattered a great deal to him. For a reason inexplicable to him, he felt as if he belonged with Fallon, that they had always belonged together. Every time he looked at her, every time he thought about her voice, every time he thought about her smile, his heart felt as though it would burst. He thought, despite having only known her for a short time, that he was falling in love with her.

That notion was reinforced by the fact that although Gwen was a pretty and desirable enough woman every time he looked at her he felt like he wanted to throw up. Every time he looked at her and saw her light hair and blue eyes he wanted to run from the room. He wanted to run from the room and find the enchanting maid with dark hair and green eyes who had stolen his heart.

He remembered that it would seem impolite if he didn't at least speak to Gwen. "Are you very tired from your journey, Lady Gwen?" he asked out of politeness. His thoughts were elsewhere.

"No, not very, milord," she replied in a soft timid voice. She was nothing like Fallon. Fallon was strong and brave. She had been defiant and outspoken to him even after she found that he was a noble. Gwen, a noble herself, was weak and soft spoken. He didn't know how he would be able to live with her.

"That is well," Marke cut in when an awkward silence descended on the table, "Your wedding will take place in two nights. I trust you are ready."

Gwen's father, Lord Cynyr Ceinfarfog answered for her. "Yes, Marke," he said in his gruff voice, "She is ready. If she's anything like her mother, she'll bear strong children. Your cousin is lucky to have her."

"Most certainly," Marke responded.

Then the door opened and Fallon walked in carrying another basket of rolls. Salomon willed desperately for her to look at him. He wanted to speak to her, to look into her eyes. But, like she had been of late, she avoided meeting his gaze.

"Wench!" Lord Ceinfarfog called just as she was about to exit the room, "More wine."

"Yes, milord," Fallon said as she retrieved the wine pitcher. She obediently walked over to him and filled his cup full. As she was turning to walk away, he reached out with one of his meaty hands and pinched her bottom. For an instant, Salomon saw anger and indignation flare in her eyes, but she quelled her emotions and walked away without a word.

Salomon started up from the table, fixing Lord Ceinfarfog with furious glare. His mouth was open ready to pour forth a tirade of wrath, but he felt Marke's hand on his knee under the table, trying to restrain him. Salomon looked to his cousin's eyes and red what the older man was thinking: _Don't let your heart get ahead of your sense._

Salomon gritted his teeth against the rage and tried to calm himself, but the image of the grubby old man's hand on Fallon kept forcing its way into his mind. He kept his silence through the meal, sullenly staring down at his food. He knew that if he looked at his soon-to-be father-in-law too much, he might explode.

Later that night, Salomon bid goodnight to Marke, Lord Ceinfarfog, and his betrothed and went desperately searching for Fallon. He had to at least see her. He wanted to tell her of the revelation that he had had, that he loved her, but he didn't know if he should. What good could come of it? Maybe she didn't even return the sentiment. And even if she did, he still had to marry Gwen….. But still, he wanted her to know.

He raced up and down the long corridors. Every time he saw a woman in the castle's maids livery, his breath caught in his throat and his heart leapt, but then she would turn and it wouldn't be Fallon, and he would begin his search again.

It was getting late, and he almost considered giving up, but as he rounded the nest corner, he saw another maid. His heart didn't race for he knew this could not be Fallon. This woman's hair was iron gray and pulled back into a bun. It was Bragnae.

"Bragnae!" he called as she began to walk away.

She turned back to him with a look of surprise. "Yes, milord?"

"Bragnae," he replied out of breath from all the running he had been doing, "I'm looking for Fallon. Do you know where she is?"

Bragnae bit her lip, and her wrinkles deepened as she creased her forehead in indecision. "I don't know if I should do that, milord. I…"

"What do you mean you shouldn't do that?" Salomon shouted angrily, "I am to be King of Cornwall when my cousin passes. You owe me respect! Now, where is she?"

Bragnae regarded him warily. "Milord, forgive me, but may I speak freely?"

Salomon gritted his teeth in anger, but he reminded himself that Bragnae was not the cause of his frustration. He let out his breath slowly, trying to calm himself. "Yes, Bragnae. What would you like to say?"

She took a deep breath. "I care deeply for Fallon. She reminds me of…." A nostalgic look came into her old eyes, but she shook her head and returned to the present. "Someone. I love her like a daughter. The last thing I want is for her to get hurt. Do you take my meaning, Sir?"

Salomon stared at her sadly for a moment. "Yes, but…." He trailed off. He didn't want to stand there and pour his heart out to one of the maids. "I don't want to hurt her," he finished.

"I know you don't," she replied, "But just because you don't want her to hurt doesn't mean she won't."

"Will you please just tell me where she is?" he pleaded, "I need to see her."

Bragnae sighed. "Nothing good will come of this," she muttered under her breath. Then louder, "She is finished with her duties for the night. She just went out to the garden. She said she would be there for a while, so you shouldn't miss her."

"Thank you!" Salomon called over his shoulder as he turned and ran towards the garden.

When he got outside, he had to pause and take a deep breath of fresh air. It was such a lovely night. A wonderful night to be out strolling the gardens with Fallon. He looked up and saw that there wasn't a cloud in the sky. The stars twinkled down on him. He took another deep breath, and prayed that Fallon wouldn't try to get away from him tonight.

He found her sitting on a bench staring up at the beautiful sky. She had undone her braid, and her raven locks fell in waves over her milk-white shoulders and down her back. He longed to walk behind her and run his hands through that beautiful hair, but he restrained himself. Instead he went and sat down beside her.

She gave a startled jump and then moved as if to leave. But Salomon caught her hand and said in a soft voice, "Please stay, Fallon."

To his pleasure, she relaxed back down onto the bench. When she tried to pull her hand away, he held onto it and brought it up to his lips. He gently kissed it. Fallon blinked at him in bewilderment.

"You… you know we cannot do this," she said sadly.

"And why can't we?" he asked, even though he knew the answer all too well. He placed another kiss on her hand. This one was more passionate, more needy.

"You are to be married," she whispered.

He looked into her emerald eyes. They were wide and shining with unshed tears. "But I'm not married yet," he protested as he held her gaze.

"But you will be!" she argued hotly, wrenching her hand from his grasp and standing up, "And then what? Then I'll just be some woman you come to when you tire of your wife! I will not be your mistress, Salomon!"

Salomon stood up, still looking at her. "But don't realize," he entreated, "That you already mean more to me than any mistress ever could? Don't you realize you mean more to me than… her?" He couldn't even bring himself to say his betrothed's name.

A big tear rolled down Fallon's cheek. "Don't play games with me, Salomon," she said softly, "You proved very well what you wanted from me on the first night I was here."

Salomon couldn't suppress his groan. He wished that he had never let himself get so out of control that night. He didn't want her to think that he only wanted her for a bedmate. "Fallon," he said, taking a step closer to her, "I already apologized for that…. I was thinking. Of course I want you in that way, Fallon. But please believe when I say I want much much more from you."

She was crying openly now. "More that I can't give, Salomon!" she sobbed, "You're a promised man!"

Salomon enfolded her in his arms and held her tightly to his chest, wondering how he managed to keep from crying himself. He ran his hands over her silky tresses and down her back as he murmured soothing words to persuade her to stop crying. When at last, her sobs had dwindled down to soft whimpers and sighs, he whispered, "I love you, Fallon."

She liked up at him then. Her lip quivered and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her senseless, but he waited for her reply. "Oh, I love you," she moaned, "God forgive me, I love you." Then he kissed her.

In that moment when his lips were pressed to hers, he was in heaven. It wasn't like the first kiss they had shared, not a wholly sexual, lusty kiss. This was a kiss of passionate love. Neither of them was holding anything back. Neither of them was putting up any resistance. Salomon held her against him with one arm, and he held her head tilted up to his with one of his big hands. He murmured her name against her mouth as he traced her high elegant cheekbone with his thumb. He loved the feel of her soft lips against his. He loved the taste of her mouth.

They parted some time later. Fallon rested her head against his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist as she recovered her breath. "What are we going to do?" she asked him softly.

Salomon stroked her hair silently for a moment before replying, "I wish I knew."

She nodded and pulled away. "I must go," she said, "Bragnae will certainly be waiting to see when I retire." She hesitated a moment. "When can I see you again? I mean, like this, alone."

Salomon's spirits soared at her words. He was so happy that she was willing to be with him despite everything. "Tomorrow night," he replied hurriedly, "And the night after that. My next two nights are yours." The statement that after that time, his nights would be Gwen's hung unspoken between them.

She nodded and smiled sadly. "I love you," she said softly then turned and quickly ran out of the garden.

"I love you, Fallon!" he called after her. He turned back and sat on the bench with is head in his hands, not yet ready to retire to his rooms.

Neither of them had seen the third person watching them from behind some nearby bushes.

Gwen ferch Cynyr stormed back to her chamber furiously. The little scene she had just witnessed in the garden played over and over again in her mind, enraging her. How could this be happening? Here she was, trying to make the best out of an unwanted marriage, and her husband-to-be was already running to the arms of some other woman! And not even a noblewoman! A serving wench! The whole situation was preposterous to her.

She was so angry that when she got to her room, she slammed open the door, and it rebounded from the wall with a thundering boom. Rowena, her personal lady's maid, who had been sitting on the edge of Gwen's bed, jumped so high that she nearly fell to the floor. Gwen didn't so much as utter one word of apology.

"The nerve of that pig!" she exclaimed as she through herself down beside Rowena, "How dare he do this to me?"

"What is it, milady?" Rowena asked in her timid voice.

Rowena was her own age and had been her friend as well as her servant for many years, so Gwen did not mind speaking of personal matters with her. "Lord Salomon," she said through gritted teeth, investing buckets of scorn into the title, "Is tumbling one of the serving wenches." She didn't actually know if he was bedding her or not; she hadn't been able to hear all of their conversation. But she had heard enough.

Rowena gave a small giggle. Gwen barely kept herself from smacking the other woman silly. "Forgive me, milady," she said, "But that is not so bad. Most men have mistresses. 'Tis a known fact."

"I know that," Gwen growled, "But he told her he _loved _her. That I cannot abide!"

"Well," Rowena reasoned, "He is young, and he is probably bewildered by this arranged marriage. He is probably just turning to this servant for comfort. He doesn't know what he's saying. You just wait after we're married. You're a beautiful woman. He'll want no one else after he has you."

Gwen snorted. "You obviously understand nothing of men, Rowena. They want what they can't have no matter how good what they do have is."

"Well, you are much smarter than me, Miss. What are you going to do?"

Gwen thought for a moment. Then she decided on a plan of action. "I'm going to make that little wench regret ever looking higher than her station," she said, more to herself than to Rowena. Then louder, looking to her maid, she said, "Make sure that a young maid named Fallon attends me as often as you can, Rowena. I will quell this little relationship before it gets too far."


	7. Discoveries

**A/N-** Just a note, I edited the love scene, and it is not quite as explicit as it previously was. I wanted to keep a T rating.

Discoveries

The crowd cheered, but tears ran down Fallon's face. They laughed, but she cried. Salomon stood with Gwen and the priest. As he said his vows, she imagined that he was saying them to her. In his heart, she knew he was. They had met in the garden the past two nights. They talked, and he kissed her. He _was _a wonderful kisser! Neither of them had spoken much of his impending marriage, but its presence always hung in the air between them. She had hoped that something would happen. That somehow in those two days time, Lord Marke would change his mind and would send Gwen and her father away. But nothing changed. And today she had to watch the man she loved marry another woman.

She knew Salomon would never be happy with Gwen. Fallon hated the woman and not just because she was marrying the man that should be hers. She had been ordered to attend the Lady Gwen three times since she and Salomon had declared their love for each other, and Gwen had run her ragged. She ordered her to do the silliest most trivial little things, and then when Fallon finished the task, Gwen berated her for being too slow about it. Nothing Fallon could do ever made her happy. Fallon knew Salomon could not love that.

Fallon watched as Salomon leaned over and gave Gwen a chaste kiss on the lips. It was not the same type of loving, tender kiss that he often bestowed on her. Nor was it like that hot lusty kiss he had given her on the first night of there meeting. It was a kiss that was devoid of any passion, any feeling. Fallon managed a small smile through her tears. At least she would always have his passion.

As he turned away from his new wife, Salomon's eyes met hers. They spoke no words, but that look that they shared said everything. She felt tears well up in her eyes again, not only for her pain but for his. He hated this as much as she. She mouthed the words 'I love you' even though she knew he could not dare to return them in front of all these people.

She turned and began to walk away. Bragnae had agreed to do her part in serving at the wedding feast. Fallon did not think she could manage it. Especially when she was thinking about what would take place after. She could not bear to think about how _Gwen_ would be the woman to have Salomon's children. _Gwen _would be the one who got to lie down beside him at night. _Gwen _got to grow old with him. What did Fallon get? Stolen moments of passion in the garden? She didn't even know that she would get that anymore. She didn't know what she would do if she didn't.

She went and sat down on their customary bench. She smiled sadly as she thought about how they had spent last night sitting there kissing and touching and talking. He was so wonderful to talk to. She loved everything about him. The way he grinned boyishly when he thought something was amusing. The way his fair locks fell across his forehead. The way his tender lips felt against hers, against her neck. The way his strong arms felt around her waist. The way his big hands held her to his body. The way he loved her. A tear trickled down her cheek. She brushed it away.

Then her thoughts turned once again to the upcoming night. Salomon would certainly have to fulfill his duties to his wife on her wedding night. She knew she couldn't hope for anything else, but it was hard to think about the man she loved lying in the arms of another woman. Especially when he had not even made love to her yet. She wasn't angry with him for not making love to her. She hadn't let him know that she was ready, and she wasn't even sure if she was or not. But she would give anything to be the woman he was with tonight.

Sometime later she went to her room, Bragnae was there waiting for her. She was glad. Company would do her well tonight. She might need someone to talk to.

As the music and cheers from the wedding feast drifted up to their ears, Bragnae held Fallon as she sobbed uncontrollably. She was livid with herself. She had known this would happen. Why hadn't she left? Why had she let him get so deep into her heart? She loved him so much, and yet she knew it was hopeless.

The night wore on and all Fallon could think about was what was going on in Salomon's chamber. Bragnae tried to talk to her and keep her mind on other things, but it was no use.

Finally, only a few hours before morning, with swollen eyes and a pounding headache, Fallon drifted off into a restless a sleep troubled with dreams.

Suddenly, by the grace of all that was good, she was in Salomon's arms, in his bed. She gasped at the overwhelming pleasure of the sensations he gave her. He kissed her lips and then her neck and then lower to her breasts. Fallon moaned as he captured her nipple between his teeth and gave it a sucking kiss. His mouth moved back up to hers, and he kissed her with an intensity and passion such as she had never imagined. She ran her hands down his strong back, slick with sweat. He whispered her name. "Fallon, Fallon, Fallon." Then suddenly it became more insistent. "Fallon! Fallon!" Then she was alone and was being shaken. She moaned for Salomon, pleading for him to come back to her. But he was gone.

She awoke to Bragnae's shaking. "Fallon! Fallon!" she was saying, trying to wake her from her slumber. Fallon let out a cry of loss as she realized that her passionate night with Salomon had been only a dream. It had been so real. She had felt as if he was there with her. Suddenly she looked down and blushed. The sheets of her bed were tangled between her legs, and her whole body was wet with sweat.

"Have you been her the whole time?" she asked Bragnae as she righted the sheets and pulled them up over her.

Bragnae nodded.

Fallon sighed. "Why did you wake me?"

"Because it is morning, and Lady Gwen has called for you to attend her," Bragnae replied solemnly.

Fallon fell back and groaned. "Not again! Especially not after…." She wanted to say not after Gwen had spent the night with the man that should have belonged to her, but she trailed off into a weary silence. "I cannot deal with her now."

Bragnae grabbed her arm and began to pull her off the bed. "You must, child," she persisted, "The lady has specifically requested your assistance."

"Why does she insist on making my life even more miserable?" Fallon whined as Bragnae thrust her clothes out to her, "Hasn't she done enough already?"

Bragnae grasped her roughly by the shoulders and gave her a shake. "Hush that, Fallon," she demanded fiercely, "I know you have the strength of both your parents. I have seen it in your eyes. You will get through this. I know you will. Now, away with this self-pity!"

Fallon didn't know if she should scream at the woman or thank her. But she did know that she should take her advice. But it just seemed so hard, so miserably hopeless.

Still, she lifted her chin and blinked away the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. She calmly took her clothes from Bragnae and began to dress herself.

Soon, she was in Gwen's chamber. It gave her some comfort to know that she had not stayed with Salomon through the morning. It gave her comfort to think that maybe he had sent her away sometime during the night.

Rowena, the maid that Gwen had brought to Castle Dor with her, worked with Fallon to fix the lady's hair. In Fallon's opinion, the style Gwen wanted to achieve seemed far too extravagant and vulgar. It was an intricate design of knots and braids. Fallon was sure it would take hours to finish.

Gwen did not talk much throughout the process, but as they were finishing, she began to relate- more to Rowena than to Fallon- the events of the previous night.

"He was a very attentive lover, Rowena," she was saying in her all too sweet voice, "I had suspected as much. He is very handsome, and his hands are so large and strong."

Fallon felt her face flushing with anger. How dare she talk like that? She tried to remember Bragnae's words, not to despair, and moved to go ready the lady's hot cider. She tried her best to ignore Gwen's words, but it seemed as if the other woman could not help but rub salt in her already sore wounds.

"He liked to kiss and nibble my neck," she continued with a giggle as she reached one of her delicate hands up to her slender white neck and gently touched it, "He also liked to caress my breasts. It was simply amazing."

Despite her best efforts, tears of hurt and rage sprang to Fallon's eyes and blurred her vision. Could what she was saying be true? Could Salomon have really made love to her like she was saying he had? Of course, Fallon knew he had had to do it… but she did not think he would have reveled in it as Gwen described. She was so distraught, and her vision was so hindered by her tears, that she knocked over a glass and it fell to the floor with a crash.

Gwen bounded from her chair and rushed over to where Fallon was kneeling, trying to gather the shattered shards of glass. "You clumsy, ox!" she exclaimed. And Fallon was reeled backwards by a stunning blow to her cheek. Fallon's hand immediately went to her face as she gave an indignant, angry gasp. Then she jumped to her feet and grabbed the pitcher of steaming hot cider. With a shout of rage, she flung its contents at Gwen.

Gwen screamed as the hot liquid splashed onto her stomach and chest. Fallon noted with triumph that the stain would probably never come out of that dress. "You horrid wench!" Gwen screamed. Rowena rushed over to her with a small towel and began dabbing at the ruined dress, but Gwen shoved her away. "I will speak to the king about this! You will be out of this castle by nightfall! You will regret ever crossing me. Now, get out of my sight!" Fallon contained her smirk until she was safely out the door.

She went to her room and about an hour later Bragnae stormed in in a huff. "Everyone's tongues are wagging about you being insolent with Lady Gwen!" she exclaimed, "It's said that you doused her with hot cider!"

Fallon lifted her chin stubbornly. "I did."

"Whatever were you thinking, you foolish, foolish girl?"

Fallon stood and busied herself with brushing out her long dark hair. "I don't know what came over me," she replied calmly.

"Well, the lady is in an uproar," Bragnae continued heatedly, "And with all the fuss she is stirring up, you'll be turned out of the castle."

"If that happens," she replied, "Then I will go back to my home or maybe I will travel. I don't know what to do. But whatever happens, happens."

Bragnae glared at her angrily. "I don't know that I ever thought anyone would be as troublesome as your mother was," she growled, "But you certainly rival her." She stomped back out the door without another word, leaving Fallon sitting motionlessly in front of the mirror.

Marke sat on his throne as he rubbed his temples. This was not good at all. He had known from the start that the young maid, Fallon, would cause more trouble than he could handle. He knew that because he knew Salomon's feelings for her. Marke had seen the look they shared at the wedding. Both of the young lovers' eyes were so filled with love and longing that he was bewildered that other people failed to see it. It painfully reminded him of how Tristan and Isolde had been. He had failed to recognize that until it was too late.

Something about Fallon tickled his memory, taking him back to the days when he first became King of Cornwall. Whenever he saw her, he couldn't place his finger on precisely what it was, but something was there. He was about to think more about it, but a knock came at his door.

"Enter," he said.

The door to his throne room opened and Bragnae walked in. Despite the fact that she was one of the maid's, Marke was close to her. She had been there ever since Isolde had came, what seemed like so long ago, and she had been a faithful employee even after Tristan's death and Isolde's disappearance.

Bragnae curtsied quickly at the door then approached him. "Milord Marke," she began, bringing her hands up in a pleading fashion, "I come here to beg for you not to be to hard on Fallon."

Marke sighed. "I expected as much when you entered, Bragnae," he said wearily, "I noticed that you had become quite attached to the girl in these past days since she came here. Tell me why I shouldn't banish her from the castle. She assaulted Lady Gwen, the woman who is going to be queen here when I pass. That is not something that should be taken lightly. I agreed to give her work here because you asked me to, Bragnae. But I cannot have troublemakers on my staff."

"Sir," she pleaded, "Please. The girl is having a hard time…." She hesitated then continued. "She is gone from her home. She has not other place to go. Please, milord. I am begging you. I will see to it that she causes no more trouble."

Marke chuckled mirthlessly. "Not cause anymore trouble? I am old, Bragnae, but I have not lost my wits yet. I have seen the way she looks at my cousin and the way he looks at her. I believe that that is the main cause of today's… excitement. How can you control her? I must send her away, Bragnae. It is for the best."

"No, milord, please!" she exclaimed as she fell to her knees before him, clutching at his boots, "You mustn't." She looked up at him with eyes shining with unshed tears. "She is much more than she seems."

Normally, Marke would have laughed. Normally. But Bragnae had just voiced the thought that Marke had been trying to force down ever since the young woman arrived. He pretended indifference. "How so?"

"Milord," she whispered shakily, "Milord, sh-she is… is the daughter of Isolde and Tristan."

Marke bounded up from his chair. "How do you know this?" he demanded a little more harshly than he had intended. His hands and knees were shaking…. That was what had been so familiar about her… what he couldn't place.

"She told me, milord," Bragnae continued softly, "And I believe her. Don't you see it? In the way she looks? Her manner?"

Marke wearily collapsed back down into his throne. "Can it be?" he whispered. Then he recalled the girl's face. She had Isolde's eyes, Isolde's high elegant cheekbones, and Isolde's gracefully arched brows. The shape of her face was Tristan's, as was her hair, and some of her other facial features. The poised way she moved reminded him so much of Isolde that it was unbelievable. Her assured manner almost made him think that Tristan's spirit had found flesh in his daughter. He didn't know how the truth had evaded him until now.

"But if she…" he began with some hopefulness, "What of Isolde?"

Bragnae was already shaking her head. "Dead soon after childbirth, milord," she told him sadly. A tear trickled down her cheek. "Fallon was raised by foster parents. She didn't even know of her lineage until a few days before Salomon brought her here." She paused. "You know where he found her, don't you?"

Marke nodded slowly. "At the riverbank… where Tristan's body lay. She left her home searching for some information about her parents." He knew she was Tristan's. It was obvious by her looks and manner that she was the daughter of Tristan and not himself.

Bragnae nodded. "Yes, milord…. What are you going to do?"

Marke shook his head. "I don't know." He sighed. "Send her to me."

Bragnae nodded and left the room.

Almost an hour later, the door opened again. Fallon, her raven tresses hanging loose about her face, poked her head in. Marke met her dazzling emerald eyes- Isolde's eyes- and she came the rest of the way in.

"You wanted to see me, milord?" she asked timidly, now focusing her eyes on the ground. She shuffled closer to him and offered him a small curtsy.

"Yes, Fallon," he replied, "I did."

She looked at the ground and kicked at her skirts nervously. "I suppose it is about my actions this morning?"

Marke nodded. "Partly." He wasn't exactly sure how he should go about this.

"What are you going to do, milord?" Once again her eyes met his, but this time they were not timid. In the depths of those emerald orbs was strength and boldness.

"I cannot have you working on my maid staff and causing trouble," he told her, "You are no longer a maid in Castle Dor, Fallon."

She nodded and a small tear trickled down her cheek. "I thought as much, milord."

"However," he continued, "I cannot turn out the daughter of two people that I loved dearly."

She looked up at him then, startled. "Milord, how…? Who told you that… I was… I…. Bragnae?"

Marke nodded. "Bragnae."

Before he could say more, she began to pour out words nervously and hurriedly. "Milord, I asked her not to tell anyone. I didn't want you to think I was coming her expecting anything. I'm not, I swear. I don't want anything like money or titles. I just wanted information… and then a home…. Please don't be angered."

Marke gazed at her for a moment before answering. He had meant to berate her from withholding that kind of information from him. But as he looked down at her, all he angry words went out of his head. He was suddenly taken back to the past. He still felt love for both Tristan and Isolde despite everything that had happened. And now as he looked at their daughter he felt love for her too, despite the fact that she was Isolde's daughter by Tristan and not by him. "I am not angered, Fallon," he said softly, "I cared deeply for both your mother and your father, and I can see much of them in you." There was a long moment of silence. Then he said, "You will remain here at Castle Dor, no longer as a maid, but as an honored guest. I will have clothes made for you and…."

"Please, milord…." She began but then hesitated.

"What is it, Fallon?" he asked.

"If it is not too much to ask, milord… may I use the dresses of my mother's please?"

Marke was touched, and it took a moment for him to find his voice. "Of course," he answered, "Whatever suits you."

"Thank you, milord," she whispered.

He cleared his throat and continued with what he was saying. "You will now dine with the other nobles and me." A look of indecision and a mix of pain and excitement crossed her eyes, and he knew only too well what it was for. But he continued on. "And you may move your things to a better chamber if you like."

"Thank you, milord," she said again, "Is that all?"

He nodded his dismissal, but as she turned to go he stopped her. "Fallon?"

"Yes, milord?"

"What you did to Lady Gwen this morning was uncalled for," his said in a firm voice, "I do not expect to have any problems like that again."

Fallon hesitated before finally answering, "Of course not, milord."

"Good. Dismissed."

"Thank you, milord." She turned and briskly walked out of the room.

He decided to leave the subject of his cousin for another talk. He silently pondered the wonders of all that had been discovered that day.

Salomon sat with his head in his hands on the edge of his bed. He had so much to think about. It was mind-boggling. Fallon, he had just found out, was actually the daughter of Marke's late wife, Isolde, and his champion, Tristan. He had just been married and consummated his marriage the night before. And the woman he had married was not the woman he loved. His head was swimming with thoughts.

He thought back to the morning's events. Gwen had stormed into his room, raving about some 'serving wench' who had ruined her dress. He did not have to think hard to figure out that it was Fallon. Gwen had been furious when she saw that he was more amused than upset.

He hadn't seen Fallon all day. The lost time he had looked into her eyes had been when he had just finished saying his vows the night before, and his whole soul longed for her. He needed to see her again. Soon. They had a lot to talk about. He couldn't believe she was a Princess, or at least something close to a Princess. That would certainly change some things. She would no longer have to serve. She would dine with them, with _him_. He wanted to go to her then, but he knew he had to wait until nightfall.

He groaned. Would Gwen demand his company this night also? It had been hard to make love to her at first, but soon he was imagining that it was Fallon he was lying with not Gwen. He found it much easier to accomplish it when he thought about being with Fallon. Still, he had not enjoyed it much at all. Especially afterwards. He had just laid there beside his new wife thinking about how he had betrayed Fallon. He wished he could change things. He wished he could be with her like she wanted him to be, but he didn't know how to make things right.

He snuck out of his room at sundown and secretively made his way to Fallon's room. He would have gone straight to the garden, but she had not known to meet him there. But when he got to her room, he found Bragnae alone.

"Bragnae," he said, "Where's Fallon?"

The old woman sighed and shook her head. "Why should I tell you?" she demanded angrily, "Future king or no, I will not let you hurt that girl anymore! You should have seen her last night. She cried for hours."

Salomon's heart ached for Fallon. He couldn't bear the thought of her crying, especially when he was the cause. "I'm sorry," he said softly, pleadingly, "But I have to see her."

Bragnae growled and muttered something under her breath before saying, "Do you know of the old trap door in the bottom of the keep?"

Salomon thought a minute and nodded. "Yes."

Bragnae sighed again. "Go through that trap door and follow the passage. She said she'd be somewhere down there. You'll find her." He was about to bolt out of the door but Bragnae stopped him. "Milord, I'm only telling you this because it is what I think she wants. If she ever gives me reason to believe that she no longer wants your attentions, I will stop telling you her whereabouts."

Salomon nodded. "I understand, Bragnae." He didn't think that would ever be a problem though. Fallon knew the depths of his feelings for her, and he knew the depths of her feelings for him. As quickly as he knew how, he made his way down to the keep.

When he got to the keep he lit a torch. Then he opened the trapdoor and peered down into the dark depths. He began walking down the dusty stone steps, and he wondered if anyone ever used the old Roman passageway anymore. The last time he had heard of it being used had been when the Irish had invaded and almost taken Castle Dor and when Fallon's father had died and her mother disappeared.

At first, Salomon wasn't sure if he was going to be able to find her. But then he saw her. She was standing with her back to him. She had put her torch in a holder on the wall and was no examining an old Roman painting. Suddenly she looked over her shoulder, and their eyes met. For a long time neither of them said anything. Finally, she spoke. "I'm surprised to see you here, Salomon. I thought your wife might want your attentions tonight." Her voice was too calm, and he knew something was wrong.

"I wanted to see you, Fallon," he told her as he walked up to her and caressed her cheek gently, "I went to your room, and Bragnae told me where you were. I needed to see you."

"Yes, well, from what I hear about last night you enjoyed yourself far more with Gwen than you ever have with me!" she said angrily as she drew her face out of his reach and turned her back on him once again.

"What?" he asked, bewildered, "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Of course you don't, Salomon," she agreed sarcastically. She scoffed. "Don't lie to me. I heard all about it this morning from your wife."

Salomon groaned. "So that was what it was all about?" She huffed. He made an effort to put his arms around her, but she evaded his touch. "Honestly, Fallon!" he exclaimed, "Are you really taking her word over mine? Don't you trust me?"

That caused her to turn back around and face him. She looked somewhat abashed. So he continued, "Fallon, I would not have done that if I didn't have to. Know that if I could have somehow made her trade places with you, I would have. I thought about you the whole time."

Her face crumpled in anguish, and tears began to fall down her cheeks. He enfolded her in his arms. She cried into his chest and held on to his shoulders. She sobbed, "Not being able to have you hurts so badly, Salomon."

He tipped her chin up and kissed her lips passionately. She returned it with fervor as she cried. His tongue delved into her mouth, tasting her, savoring her. He didn't know how long it lasted, but when their lips parted, he was gasping for breath. Fallon was still gasping sobs. He held her close to him as he whispered, "I love you, Fallon. No matter what, I'll always love you. That's what matters: we love each other."

She subdued her sobs and looked up at him. He brushed his fingers across her beautiful tear stained cheek as she searched for words. When she did speak, he was speechless.

"Salomon, make love to me." Her voice was a barely audible whisper, as if she was unsure of herself.

"What?" he asked, unable to disguise his surprise or his hope.

"I want you to make love to me, Salomon," she insisted more forcefully, "I need you. Please." She gripped the material of his shirt in fists and pressed herself more firmly against him. He groaned quietly at the feeling of her soft breasts pressed against his chest.

"Fallon," he breathed, "Are you sure you're ready?" He hoped she was.

"Yes, my love," she said, "I want you, and if I can't have you as your wife, then I will have you as your mistress. I love you, Salomon."

"You know you are much more to me than a mistress, Fallon," he told her shakily as his hands moved over her back, "I love you too. You know you are my wife in my heart."

They lay down there on the hard, dirty floor, but it was as grand as the king's bed to them. He ran his hands up and down her body, wanting to feel all of her, to possess her, to love her. She was his, and as much as he hated to admit his weakness, he belonged to her as well. They were a perfect match, and if circumstances had been different… but he banished those thoughts from his mind. The only thing that mattered was her laying there beneath him.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured as he trailed kisses down the soft skin of her throat and chest. She chuckled throatily in reply as his fingers found the laces of her dress and began to untie them. In no time her body was bared to him, and she watched as he stared down at her with eyes clouded and heavy lidded with desire. She didn't want to wait any longer.

"Salomon," she breathed urgently, "Please."

He grinned triumphantly at the effect he had on her. She didn't have time to berate him for being so arrogant, for then he began kissing his way down her body again, and then every thought went out of Fallon's head. She was consumed with ecstasy.

He took her gently, and when they both reached the peak together it was as if their souls were one.

They lay there for some time after, simply holding each other in their arms. The sounds of their heavy breathing filled the air. Salomon lovingly stroked her dark hair, now damp with perspiration as he gazed down at her beautiful, serene face. They both drifted off into a peaceful and satisfied sleep.


	8. Tragedy

Tragedy

Fallon idly played with the golden hair on Salomon's chest as she watched him sleep. She had awoke only moments before, and he had looked so peaceful. The hard lines of his face had softened, and he looked young, or rather he looked his age. Despite only being 19 years old, he seemed much older than her at times. She smiled lazily as she lightly traced her finger down his cheek.

She blushed with guilty pleasure as she recalled what they had been doing before they drifted off. She had never imagined that any man could ever make her feel like that. His hands had felt so right, so wonderful on her body.

She curled up against Salomon's strong chest, prepared to go back to sleep for a few moments, but as she did Salomon's eyelids fluttered opened, and she looked up into his stunning blue orbs. He kissed her forehead gently. "How long have I been asleep?" he asked.

Fallon shrugged and put her arms around him. "I don't know. I woke up only a few moments ago, but I don't know how long I slept," she told him as she nuzzled against his chest.

Salomon tipped her face up to his and gave her a slow lingering kiss that was full of love and satisfaction. She sighed pleasantly against his mouth. When he was kissing her and touching her like this it was almost as if the world was all their's, as if there was no Gwen, no Lord Marke, no Cornwall. There was only Fallon and Salomon lying in each other's arms making love.

"I didn't hurt you too badly, did I, my love?" he asked after a moment.

Fallon shook her head and kissed his chest. "No," she replied, "You were very gentle, my Lord." She grinned mischievously. "In fact, I enjoyed every minute of it."

Salomon grinned down at her with a lusty twinkle in his eyes. "Oh did you?" he asked in a throaty voice as his hand moved up to caress her breast. She shivered with pleasure. She leaned forward and lightly nibbled on his collar bone.

She was about to open her mouth and tell him just how much she wanted him to make love to her again, but the sound of footsteps on stone reached their ears. Salomon sat up just as Bragnae, torch in hand, rounded the corner. Fallon yelped in embarrassment and tried her best to cover her nakedness with Salomon's cloak. Bragnae seemed to be just as surprised.

"Fallon!" she gasped in surprise as she turned her back to them.

Fallon's cheeks burned with mortification. Why did Bragnae have to choose then to come down and interrupt them? Well, maybe then was better than if she had come earlier. Her blush deepened. Had Bragnae come when she and Salomon were making love, Fallon was sure she would have never been able to forget the embarrassment. Salomon soothingly wrapped his cloak around her and situated himself behind her so that they were both covered.

"We have been looking all over for you two!" Bragnae exclaimed heatedly, "I didn't expect you to stay down here this long!"

"How long have we been down here?" Fallon asked quietly.

"All night," the older woman replied. She began to say more but hesitated.

"Bragnae, something's wrong," Salomon said from behind her in a deep, level voice, "What is it?"

It was only then that Fallon saw how red and puffy Bragnae's eyes were. "Bragnae…?" she entreated softly, her voice filled with worry.

"Lord Marke is dead."

Salomon stiffened behind her. "No," he whispered, "He was fine… old of course, but… fine…. I was sure he had at least a few more years…." Bragnae simply shook her head and sniffed.

"It happened in his sleep," she informed them, "Peacefully. He felt no pain. I'm so sorry, Milord."

Salomon's breathing had quickened. "I…. It's just…. He…." His voice was thick with tears.

"Oh, Salomon," Fallon breathed as she turned and wrapped her arms around him. She knew that he and Lord Marke had been close. She knew how hard this must be for him. He rested his head heavily on her breast, and she could feel tears trickle from his eyes down onto her skin. Knowing the emotional pain he was in caused her own tears to brim over and fall into his flaxen hair. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

She looked up at Bragnae and motioned for her to go. Bragnae gave her a look at first, but she saw that Fallon was not going to leave Salomon in the state that he was in, and she complied. Fallon knew that she would know to let the search for Salomon go on until he was ready to show himself. They could think of an excuse as to why he had been missing since last night…. Not that anyone would challenge him really. He was king now.

Fallon thought about that as she made soothing sounds and ran her fingers gently through his pale blonde locks of hair. He was only 19, and already he had a kingdom of his own. She couldn't imagine the stress and pressure that would be in store for him because of that. Ever since she had met him, Fallon had always thought that he seemed much older than he really was, but that still did not change the fact that he _was _only 19. So much for him to bear. Her heart broke for him.

After a few moments, he pulled away from her. "I guess we had better go," he said, not looking at her.

"Salomon, I am so sorry," she said as she gently caressed his cheek, "Know that I will be here for you through this. I love you."

He smiled a shaky smile that didn't quite touch his icy blue eyes. "Thank you," he replied, "I love you too." He sighed and reached for his trousers and boots. "I wish we had had more time down here. If I could pretend the world wasn't real and stay down here with you forever, I would."

"As would I, my love," Fallon murmured as she gave him his shirt. She stood and walked to where her dress was strewn heedlessly on the floor. They dressed in silence. When Salomon was clothed, he came over to her and helped her with the stays of her dress. When he finished, he pressed his cheek to the back of her shoulder and let out a sigh. She knew that now he wasn't thinking about only his cousin's death or his kingship but about having to return to the real world. She was thinking about it too.

"This isn't the last time I'll be down here with you, I promise you that," he whispered to her with conviction, "No matter what happens now, I'll always have time for you. King or no."

"I know," she replied quietly. Still, she couldn't help but worry. As king, he would have many duties. Many duties that would take him away from her. She was being selfish. She knew she shouldn't think that way, but when it came to Salomon her heart ruled over her brains.

And he would have to spend more time with Gwen. That thought tore at her heart. Being King of Cornwall, he would have to start thinking about producing heirs. Since she was not his lawful wife, she could not be the woman to bear him those heirs. That woman would be Gwen. Fallon wondered if soon his nights would be taken away from her as well.

Salomon watched with tear filled eyes as his cousin's funeral pyre was lit. Lord Marke of Cornwall. He had been a wonderful man and a good king. Salomon didn't think he could hope to come close to being as good a king. He would have to try. It was his duty.

Duty.

That word made him turn his head to look at the woman standing next to him. She was not the woman he wished would be standing there. How he longed to feel Fallon's warm, comforting arms around him at this time! Gwen simply stood. Mute, cold, unmoving. No doubt she had some idea of where he had been. Her recent abnormal animosity towards Fallon told him that she knew that Fallon was much more to him than he could show in public.

Fallon stood a few paces away with Bragnae, even though she was no longer obligated to remain with the servants. Salomon could tell by the look in her eyes that she wanted to be with him, to soothe him. He prayed a silent prayer that he could somehow fix the whole mess.

When the funeral ceremony was over and they were walking away, Gwen finally chose to speak. "Maybe it would be best if you tried a little harder to hide your tryst with the wench," she said, voice dripping with venom, "This morning everyone knew that you were off somewhere tumbling that whore."

Salomon clenched his hands into fists. He was nearly shaking with rage. He wanted to swing his fist around and hit her, but he restrained himself, instead fixing her with the coldest, harshest glare he could muster. "And maybe it would be best if _you _didn't speak of the daughter of Lord Marke's late wife as if she were common filth."

She met his furious glare for an instant more before turning away silently. Salomon turned his gaze up to where Fallon was walking with Bragnae. What would this do to her? Gwen would certainly try her best to make her life a living Hell. And her reputation-if it was not already- would be ruined. Not for the first time, he felt a stab of guilt over what he was doing. She was but 16, little more than a child, and already she was thrown into this.

But when he thought about letting her go, it felt as if someone was trying to rip out his heart.


	9. An Important Action

**A/N- **Again, I edited the love scene.

An Important Action

Two days after Lord Marke's funeral, Salomon's coronation took place. Fallon stood by Bragnae's side as he was crowned King of Cornwall. Although she didn't have to stand with the servants, she felt that she didn't belong anywhere else. Of course, if not for Gwen, she would have been standing by Salomon, but she knew she could not continue to live her life based on 'if' and 'if not.'

As she looked up at Salomon's sorrowful, weary blue eyes, Fallon thought about leaving. Even though she loved him more than life itself, how could she stay if she was causing him this much pain? He didn't need their situation weighing on him now that he had a kingdom to run.

But she didn't have the courage to do it. She thought about how bleak her life would be without him. Salomon was like her sun. He made every day worth living. If she had to wake up every morning with the knowledge that he wouldn't be there to talk to, to see, to hold, then she didn't think she would be able to make herself get out of bed every morning. Without him, she would give up.

Anger shadowed her sorrow when she watched the crown placed on Gwen's head. A wide smile spread across her pretty features as her eyes scanned the crowd. Then her light blue orbs landed on Fallon, and Fallon knew she did not mistake the triumph she saw written there.

She wished more than anything that Gwen was just a bad dream, a horrible nightmare, but she knew that wishing wouldn't get her anywhere and Gwen was true, living, breathing, flesh. She was a nightmare walking.

Finally, the coronation was over. It was wonderful to see the honor of kingship bestowed upon Salomon, but seeing the crown of queen placed on Gwen's golden hair was just a painful reminder of what Fallon would never get to be.

The days went by rather uneventfully. Each rising and setting of the sun was bleak and mundane for Fallon, for other than brief stolen kisses in deserted hallways and cold, uncomfortable dinners, she no longer got to spend time with Salomon. His kingly duties occupied his days, and Gwen occupied his nights. Not a night went by when Fallon did not curl up in her cold, lonely bed and cry herself to sleep.

Dinner that night was no different from the way dinner every night for the past week and half had been. The only sounds that filled the large room were the metallic clanging of forks and spoons against plates accompanied with the occasional scurrying of a servant. Fallon was content to stare down blandly at her meal. It was easier if she didn't look up, for then she could almost pretend that Gwen wasn't there, that it was only she and Salomon at the table. If not for the uncomfortable silence and tension that filled the air, it would have been almost convincing.

"Lord Salomon, would you like more wine?" A long pause. "Lord Salomon?"

Fallon glanced up when she heard the servant repeat the question. Salomon's eyes met hers with a fiery passion that she had only seen glimpses of in the past few weeks. They burned through her, searing her soul with the strength of his desire. Seeing those usually cold blue eyes filled with such heat for her sent a shiver of lust down her spine.

But then Gwen cleared her throat, ruining the moment.

"I'm sorry," Salomon said turning to the servant girl, "My mind was elsewhere." His eyes once again flicked to Fallon. "On an important action."

Fallon went back to resignedly eating her meal, but her heart was pounding in her chest and her mind was racing. An important action. Could that mean he wanted to be with her tonight? Or was he just fishing for words to make an excuse for ignoring the servant? She hoped against all hope that it was the former. She hated being like this, clinging to his every word, every attention. Before Salomon, what seemed like an eternity ago, she wasn't like this. She was independent. She didn't hang on the words of anyone. Still, she couldn't imagine how bleak her life would have been had she never met him.

When dinner came to a close and the three left their seats, Fallon was at a loss as to what to do. Did she go to her room and try to sleep, never knowing if Salomon had really wanted her tonight? No, that option was immediately discarded in her mind. How could she do that? Instead, she decided that she would go down to the trap door and wait for him in the abandoned hallways underneath Castle Dor where they had made love for the first time. If his words had been meant for her, then maybe he would find her down there. If not then she would retire to bed alone as she had been every night for too long.

She pulled her cloak tight about her face as she walked, hiding in corners when she heard someone approaching. She would not take that chance of being found by someone and deterred. No one knew of her intention to go down to the abandoned trapdoor, not even Bragnae, and she did not intend to alter that fact.

Quietly, she lifted the trapdoor when she reached her destination. A soft creak echoed in the antechamber, but no one was near enough to hear it. She lit one of the torches at the top, and then began a slow descent down the old stone stairway. Her heart thumped, and she didn't know if it was for fear of being found or for anticipation of the long night ahead if Salomon chose to meet her. She shivered pleasantly as she thought about being with him again. He had been so attentive to her needs and wants. His touch had sent heat all through her body. She moaned aloud thinking of him.

"I hope you're thinking about me," came a husky voice from behind her.

She whirled around, breath coming out of her in a rush. "Salomon, you're here," she sighed.

"I couldn't stay away from you any longer," he said hoarsely, "No matter what she said." At her perplexed look, he explained, "Gwen has been threatening that if she found that I had been with you again, she would write her father. Well, gods damn Gwen and damn her father! I am King of Cornwall! And I'll be with the woman I love no matter what anyone says!" And with that he took her up in his arms and kissed her thoroughly.

His lips were insistent and rough against hers as his tongue delved deep into her mouth. With his hands pinning her wrists up against the wall and his body smashing down on hers, she was helpless and totally vulnerable to him. Not that she wanted him to stop. His kiss was one of the most sensual things she had ever experienced, all the better because it seemed like it had been an eternity since their last. She could think of nothing better than to be pressed up against a wall with Salomon's lean, hard body rubbing against hers. She wanted more.

And so did Salomon. When he took her this time, he showed none of the tender gentleness he had before. Up against the wall, their love making was hard, fast, urgent. Fallon moaned and gave herself to him with reckless abandon. They had been apart too long, and they both knew they might not get another chance like this one in a long time. They did not have time to waste on what was good and proper.

They stood like that for a long time after they finished, Fallon resting her head weakly on his shoulder. Then a few moments later when both had recovered their breath, Salomon stood back and buttoned his trousers, then helped her with her dress. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, gesturing to a tear in her dress, "I couldn't control myself."

"It's alright," Fallon replied just as softly, "I didn't want you too."

Salomon nodded his understanding and then took her in his arms, gently now. "Would I be a welcome guest in your bed tonight, fair lady?" he asked as he planted a tender kiss on her cheekbone, "For I would much like to make up for the time that we have lost."

Her heart soared. "You are always welcome in my bed, my king."


	10. Plots

**A/N- **Okay, this is the last chapter that I had published under my old account. Expect new ones in the very near future.

Plots

Salomon looked on Fallon with tender, loving eyes as she slept. Her raven locks were spread out across the pillow, and her breasts rose and fell softly with the deep breaths of sleep. She looked so beautiful laying there, her elegant, dark brows, her full, pink lips, her high, rosy cheeks. She was a rare work of art. And he could not love her more. He smoothed her dark hair back and placed a soft kiss on her shoulder as he thought about the night that they had shared.

It had been so beautiful, so perfect. He hated that it was coming to an end. But he would not let it be the last. He swore right then on his beloved cousin's grave that he would be with Fallon again. He would never forget about her or leave her laying aside. She was the world to him. Forever and always.

With that last on his mind, he sighed. Gently, he shook Fallon's shoulder, urging her to wake. "Fallon," he said softly as he kissed her, "Wake up, my love. It's nearly morning."

Fallon groaned groggily and returned his kiss. "No," she moaned.

"Yes," he sighed in reply, "Though I hate to say it. The night has come to an end, sweet sweet Fallon."

She drew her brows together and slowly opened her eyes. "Why does it have to be over?" she mumbled as she burrowed into his side.

Salomon stroked his hand down her bare back. "If I could stop the sun from rising," he told her, "But alas, even a king cannot do that." He looked out the window to the gray light of dawn before sighing again. "I have to get back to my chamber, you know."

"I hate her," Fallon said softly, tears springing to her eyes as she looked up at him.

"I know you do," he replied as he kissed her forehead, "And if there was something I could do to change this, I would… but right now, I don't know what to do. I promise you, I will think of something for us to do, and until I figure it out, I will not stop coming here to your chamber. Every night that I can, I will be with you. Do you believe me?"

"Yes," she answered. Her eyes looked child-like and innocent as she gazed up at him, wholly trusting. He knew that he could never hurt her, for if he did, it would be her whole undoing. "I believe you, with all my heart." He offered her a small smile, assuring her that he would keep his promise. Then he stood and began to dress.

His clothes and Fallon's dress and shift lay strewn carelessly on the floor by the bed. Last night, neither of them had been of any mind to carefully fold and put away their clothing. They had been too preoccupied with their longing to think of anything else. Now, Fallon watched from the bed as he dressed. He looked at her as he pulled his trousers on. She was propped up on her elbow, smiling pointedly at his bare chest and torso. "You're beautiful," she said, her smile growing wider.

He grinned at her and replied, "So are you." She laughed. It was times like these with her that he could forget about the world. He hated that he would have to leave that magic behind. His expression sobered as he finished buttoning up his shirt and went over to Fallon on the bed. "I have to go," he said solemnly. Her expression followed his.

"I know," she replied in an almost inaudible voice, "One last kiss before you go?" She lifted her head hopefully.

"Of course," he said, "How could I leave without tasting your lips once more." He bent and gave her a long, slow kiss. His tongue dipped into her mouth, tasting her sweet essence. It was an instant of pure rapture, and he never wanted to end it.

Finally, it was Fallon who pulled back. "You have to go," she stated. She turned her head the other direction. He suspected it was to hide tears.

He nodded and walked to the door. "I love you, Fallon. Forever." He left before she had the chance to reply.

Salomon knew before he opened the door that his room was occupied. The soft light of candles shown out of the crack underneath the door. He feared he knew who it was… and his fears were backed when he pushed open the door and entered.

"Ah, so the king returns from his nighttime tryst." Gwen lounged on the bed idly twirling a strand of her golden red hair between two of her slender fingers. She appeared utterly bored and indifferent, but he knew better than that. He could tell by the unqualified rage in her eyes that she was the exact opposite. "So nice of you to join me."

Salomon glared at her. "Why are you here uninvited?" he asked coldly.

She laughed liltingly. "Am I not allowed in my own _husband's _bedchamber, hmm?" she asked innocently, "I believe as your _wife_ I am authorized to be here."

He bristled. "As _king_," he growled, "I _forbid _you to be here without my permission."

Her eyebrows climbed to the top of her forehead. "Oh, you forbid me, Salomon?" she queried. Her voice had become a deadly calm, and by that he knew that she was even angrier than she had been to start with. "You forbid _me_?" When he didn't dignify her fury with a response, she smiled but it didn't reach her cold eyes. "We'll see about this, Salomon," she told him as she moved towards the door, "Do you honestly think I'll let you sabotage my name by continuing your little romance with this common girl?" She shook her head. "No. Just wait, my husband." The door slammed behind her.

Salomon didn't know exactly what she planned on, but he didn't want to contemplate it. After all, he was king, and she was his wife. How much could she do?

Lord Cynyr Ceinfarfog sat at his table. Rage filled his heart and his mind as he looked down at the letter he had just received. This was an _outrage_. The read went as follows:

_Dear father,_

_It is with a heavy heart and a weary head that I write to you. I am ashamed to have to tell you what I am writing to you for. I have been disgraced, and in so, you have been disgrace, my lord. The husband you chose for me has proven less than we both thought. I understand that this is no fault of your own. A situation such as this could not have been foreseen by you. We were both fooled by the late Lord Marke and his treacherous cousin. _

_Now I will inform you of the nature of my shame. My husband has been conducting an affair. Yes, I know that this is common among men, and I do not object to him having a tryst or two if he were to conduct it appropriately in a manner that did not sully my honor. But what he is doing is simply mocking me! He openly goes to the chamber of another woman every night and is often seen with her whenever he has a free moment. All of the staff and guests here at Castle Dor know that truly I am not queen here, but simply an unwanted resident. My authority is in jeopardy._

_My lord, I beseech you, as your daughter, to do something about this other woman, Fallon is her name. Come to Cornwall. Take her away from him. I want my honor back, and I know that you would not want me shamed in this way. You have seen this woman before when you brought me here. She worked as a maid. I believe you would find her to be an attractive young woman, for she is, as much as I despise her, rather pleasing to the eye. Take her as your plaything. I do not care what you do with her, so long as she is removed from Castle Dor. _

_I trust that you will make the right decision. Thank you. _

_Your obedient daughter,_

_Gwen ferch Cynyr Queen of Cornwall._

He slammed his fist down on the hard, wooden surface of the table. How could she have allowed this to happen? This was disgusting! He thought he had taught his daughter to maintain her authority when she ruled. Obviously he had done a less than satisfactory job than he had previously thought.

No. He shook his head with a sigh. He needed to channel his wrath in the appropriate direction. Gwen was not the one at fault in this situation. Granted, he thought she could have probably nipped her husband's little affair in the bud before it escalated, but truthfully it was not all her fault. The fault lied with her treacherous husband, Lord Salomon. _He _was the problem, he and this Fallon. Now Lord Ceinfarfog had no choice but to take action. If his daughter could not settle this problem, then he would. He set his mind to plotting.


	11. Surprise

**A/N- **Ok, first new chapter. This one will be short. Go easy on me since it has been like 3 years since I've written anything on this story :P

Surprise

When she wasn't sneaking away for romantic liaisons with Salomon, Fallon managed to create some semblance of normal life for herself at Castle Dor. She walked the halls, examining any intriguing paintings or other works of art she came across. Occasionally, she found time to chat with Bragnae, but the elderly maid was usually occupied. When she'd exhausted every corridor of the castle, Fallon took to exploring the grounds and surrounding lands. She surprised herself by how she had fallen into a somewhat pleasant life there.

Of course, things never seemed to be simple. She had been expecting her monthly flux over two weeks ago. She was almost never late. It wasn't certain yet, but she knew. Fallon placed a hand on her still flat belly. In her was a king's child. An illegitimate one, but still. If she wasn't so worried she might be excited. But she couldn't stop wondering whether or not Salomon would be happy she was having his child. It would certainly cause somewhat of a disturbance. While Gwen had coldly ignored their affair lately, Fallon couldn't imagine the queen would be able to ignore it when the king's illegitimate child was running around the castle.

In fact, Gwen's icy acceptance of her and Salomon's affair was quite unsettling in itself. While the two lovers still made an effort to be discreet, it almost seemed that there was no need. Salomon told Fallon that after a few enraged outbursts when the affair first began, Gwen had stopped referring to his midnight trysts. Fallon was not easily fooled. She still knew she was the object of Gwen's hatred. She could see it in those icy blue eyes whenever they were in a room together. Gwen might pretend to accept that her husband had a mistress, but Fallon felt that a storm was brewing. Salomon did his best to ease her worries, but it was to no avail. And a baby would complicate things much _much _more.

Fallon sighed. _There's no use crying over spilt milk_. A baby was coming whether they liked it or not, and she was telling Salomon about it tonight. He had asked to meet her expecting a passionate night with nothing on his mind but love making. She almost smiled as she thought, _He's in for a surprise. _

Salomon blissfully made his way down into the depths of Castle Dor to the trapdoor that led him to his and Fallon's meeting place. It had been almost a week since he had been alone with her, and it was killing him. Tonight was much needed, for both of them. He had seen the tightness around Fallon's eyes, how her mouth seemed rather downturned lately. She was… stressed or upset about… something. It was probably the stress of being a king's mistress. As it did so often, guilt twisted his stomach. Fallon would ever be labeled as a king's whore because of him. He gritted his teeth in anger just thinking about what people were probably saying about her already. They had talked about it before, and she assured him she was fine, but still he worried. He hated that his love might be causing her grief. He would ask her about it tonight. But first he would take her in his arms and kiss all her worries away.

He grinned when he found her waiting for him beyond the trap door. Fallon returned his smile, but he saw the shadow of worry in her eyes. "Fallon," he said, taking her into his arms and kissing her brow, "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, Salomon," she murmured as she wrapped her arms around his waist. She leaned her head against his chest and sighed. He felt her body sag as if there was a heavy weight upon her, and his brow furrowed in confusion. This was not the reaction he'd expected from her at this meeting.

"Fallon?" he questioned, "Are you alright?"

She looked up at him and managed a nervous smile, "Yes, I'm fine." She stepped back and anxiously played with her fingers. He knew she wanted to say more, but she didn't.

Salomon chuckled softly. "Then why are you acting so strangely? You don't expect me to believe that everything is fine when you're acting like this, do you?"

Fallon smiled. "No, I guess not…."

"Well?"

"Well…." She grimaced, searching for words. Salomon was becoming as anxious as she was. "I… have something to tell you…. It's not that it's awful…. Well, it's just that…. Circumstances being as they are…."

He quickly covered her mouth with a kiss. "Now," he breathed when he finally pulled away from her, "Please calm down and just tell me what's wrong."

Fallon sighed heavily and nodded. "Well, Salomon, the thing is… I believe I'm with child."

Salomon opened his mouth to speak then closed it… then opened it again… and closed it. He didn't quite know what to say… or think, or feel. On one hand he was overjoyed. Fallon was going to have his child. He was going to be a father. He loved Fallon deeply and their child would be perfect. On the other hand, however, he was king and married to another woman. This child wouldn't be respected as a king's child should be. It would be viewed as a bastard. Nothing more. And gossip would be rampant in the castle when Fallon's belly began to grow. Gwen would be furious. _That_ almost made him smile.

"My love," He finally whispered, wrapping her in a warm embrace, "Nothing would make me happier than to have a child with you." It wasn't a lie. If circumstances were different, nothing would stop him from shouting his joy all throughout Cornwall. If only. But he wouldn't let her see his sadness. "I am glad it's you who will bear my first child."

Miles away in Ireland, Lord Cynyr Ceinfarfog was at the docks preparing to board his ships with his men. It was time that Salomon of Cornwall was taught a lesson.


End file.
